Last Generation
by Meg Storm
Summary: 'At the time, I didn't really understand the problem, especially when there seemed like such a simple solution. "I'll go with Dagonet."' To protect her people, she must loose the woman to the knight. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1: The Idea

**A/N: Well, ideas for stories have been plaguing me lately, so I finally caved and started typing them! This is one of two new fics for King Arthur. **

**BETA work done by my wonderful friend, Miss **_**princesspomegranate**_**, who is a fantastic writer and always very supportive. I strongly recommend you go check out her stories, if you haven't done so already. (: **

**Thank you so much for dropping in, I hope you enjoy this first chapter and let me know what you thought, good or bad (:**

_**. : Last Generation : .**_

**. : Chapter 1: The Idea : .**

It was an agreement that swore lives to those who didn't deserve them. It was slavery in the worst form. It turned innocents into killers, into blooded warriors long before their times. It destroyed those lives; sacrificed them to the torments of war.

It had been going on for generations. Boys were taken from their mothers' arms, thrust into their service. All because their fathers had been strong enough to survive their own service and had returned home. They were taken by men too cowardly to fight their own battles, too weak and pathetic to handle themselves in battle. An empire so great it had to enslave others to maintain it.

Our people are the best warriors, there is no doubt. But I often resent that fact.

The Romans come to our lands near every fourteen years, just as the last men's services is about to end. They take the newest sons, train them over that last year, and then send them to their posts to replace the old knights. Then the process repeats itself.

Knights. It is almost a laughable term. There is no honour in being a Knight for the Roman Empire. True, they do not have to wash floors, mend clothing, tend to crops or their masters like other slaves. Their lives are so much worse, to kill the enemy in cold blood. To have it stained on their hands, to watch their brothers-in-arms die before they can return to their mothers and families.

I was young when the idea first formed. Very young. It was just after my Mother had given birth to their third child, when my father collapsed in our family tent, his face in his hands. I knew what it meant.

Another girl.

With no sons to give to the Romans when they came, the punishment was dire. The heartless bastards would kill the elders. Or take the older men once again. My father was too old for battle _now_, let alone when the time came again for collection.

There were two Knights who had returned to our village, two out of an original five. One had been blessed with sons; our father, though, was not as lucky. We heard stories of other villages with no sons to give. It was quickly learned, no matter how cruel it sounds, that it was better to have a son to give, then none at all.

My older sister rose from her place next to me and went to our father's side, laying a hand on his shoulder. Caelan was nine summers old, four my senior. She was level headed and grown up, as most offspring of knights were. We grew up much faster than other children, male or not.

"It will be alright, father." she said softly, offering him a mug of mead.

One scared hand reached out and accepted the mug, and the other covered the small, smooth one on his shoulder. Silently thankful.

It did not matter that his brother-in-arms, Darian, had sons. The village would still suffer if he did not. Father knew this.

"My daughters." he sighed, patting Caelan's hand affectionately. "If only it were that simple. The Romans will come again in six summers. There is no hope for us now."

"Father…surely they will understand…it is not your fault!" my sister tried, hopelessly.

"Caelan." Father frowned, silencing her. "You know the Romans will _not _understand."

"There has to be a way." she insisted, too stubborn to realise the truth of it all.

"There is none. You have no brother." He replied, the finality in his voice strong enough to make us both cringe.

The flap to our tent was pushed aside and a head popped in.

I squealed happily, leaping to my feet and stumbling across the floor to tackle the visitor.

"Uncle Darian!"

The man laughed, picking me up by the back of my dress and prying me from his leg.

"Malise, mischief embodied. How can something so small be so troublesome?" he asked, pretending to think about it for a moment. "Ah, I know. Your Faolan's blood, aren't you? Trouble like your father!"

"Darian." Father said. "Now is not the time for your games."

The grin slowly faded from my Uncle's face and he lowered me to the ground. The scar that ran from the top of his forehead to the bottom on his left jaw line puckered as he frowned. "A girl?"

Father nodded wordlessly, dropping his face back into his hands.

Caelan squeezed his shoulder. "I must go to Mama. Don't let Mali stay up much longer."

She slipped out past Uncle Darian and disappeared into the blackness, we fell into silence.

I looked between the men in confusion. My five year old mind not quite able to comprehend what was wrong. "Papa?"

He looked at me. His dark, almost-black eyes reached my similar ones and held them.

"What?" His voice rasped, as if the words pained him.

Darian fully entered the tent, the flap falling closed behind him, and he strode over to father, sitting down next to him.

I tottered over to them, falling on my backside between their legs with a huff. "What's our sister's name?"

He was quiet for a moment, his hand rising to the top of my head and began stroking the black curls, absentminded. "Fallon. Her name is Fallon."

"Is she pretty?"

"Yes."

"As pretty as Mama?"

He looked down at my innocent, curious face and smiled. He lifted me into his lap and clasped Darian's shoulder.

"Yes, as pretty as your Mama. She looks just like her."

"When can I see her?"

"In the morning, Malise, when you're Mama has rested."

I nodded.

"Filthy Roman bastards." Uncle Darian hissed under his breath, only to be met with a dirty look from Papa.

"Watch your tongue around my daughter, brother."

The chastising had little effect on the slightly younger man.

"Surely there has been enough of our blood spilled to satisfy them! Enough lives lost to the cause not our own!"

"Darian, enough!" Papa growled. "You know as well as I that Romans will never change. It is easier to go with them, then against them. _We_ know this best of all."

My Uncle, usually ridiculously cheerful, clenched his fists until they were white. "It is still not right. My sons…"

Papa levelled him with steady eyes. "You think I am not happy that I don't have one? I am. But it is what _they_ will do to us…" he trailed off, glancing at down at me. "You know this."

Uncle Darian sighed heavily, relaxing his equally scared hands into his lap.

"I can only be thankful that Keal will not be old enough-_this time_. Ana would never handle loosing both of them at once."

Keal was his youngest child, at one year old. Darian had three others, two girls Kaley and Kyla, seven year old twins, and a ten year old son, Dagonet. They often spoke of Dagonet leaving, and wondering when Keal's time would come. Ana, my aunt, refused to hear the idea. Anyone who dared utter it would often be met with flying pottery. She would not give both of her boys to the Romans.

I chewed my lip as Papa nodded and the silence resumed.

"Papa?"

He sighed, a smile pulling at his mouth and Darian chuckled. The air lightened, if only for a moment.

"Yes?"

"Why are you sad?"

The amusement faded quickly and my father's worn face took on a more worried look.

"Because, you don't have a brother, like we'd hoped."

At the time, I didn't _really _understand what that meant, for us and for our people. I _knew_ my parents wanted a boy, yes. I knew that the sons of knights were taken away on an _'adventure'_ when they were old enough. I knew that Dagonet would be the next to go and that I was supposed to have a brother to go with him.

No one had really explained to me yet what that adventure entailed. After all, who filled a five year old's head with bloody tales of battle and death?

At the time, I didn't _really_ understand the problem, especially when there seemed like such a simple solution. Then, I was so innocent and naïve.

"I'll go with Dagonet."

**A/N: Soooo…? Thoughts? Suggestions? This idea has been around for a while, but recently I've been putting everything that pops into my head on paper, so we'll see how it goes (: **

**Thanks muchly for looking in, I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Please please review! Lots of love and cookies to everyone who does…:P :D **

**~Meg xx**


	2. Chapter 2: The Beginning

**A/N: Howdy all (: Firstly, I wanna thank everyone for the encouragement I got on the first chapter. It means a lot, really (: **

**Thank you very much to **_**princesspomegranate **_**and **_**Girl In the Library Corner**_** for their reviews :D **

**And extra thanks to **_**princesspromegranate**_** for the BETA work ^.^ Would be lost without ya, lol (:**

**Enjoy!**

**. : Chapter 2: The Beginning : .**

The thought was banished at the start. Papa cursed and yelled and sent me to bed, making me promise to never say anything like that _ever_ again. That it would never happen, no one would _ever_ allow it. And to never ever, _ever_, under any circumstances, mention it to Mama.

It had confused and angered me. I had stomped back to my pallet and buried myself in the furs. Why couldn't I go? What was so special about a boy that allowed them to go?

But, true to the promise I made, I didn't mention it again. And neither did Papa or Uncle Darian.

A year passed. The cold came and went and summer had arrived again. Fallon had learned to babble _almost _understandable words, and walked reasonably well. Caelan had grown prettier and more mature. She got her first crush, on Dagonet, strangely enough. _I _thought she was mad. Boys were good for tackling and pushing into mud puddles, not to be blushed and giggled over.

I changed little. My hair got longer, I got taller, and I could run faster. That was about it.

I was sitting at the stream, dangling my feet in the water, watching Dagonet standing absolutely still with a spear in his hand and water up to his knees.

"Caelan told me to tell you that you gotta see her and Mama about your new tunic after this."

My sister had taken to sewing, and Dagonet suffered a lot of her creations. They weren't that bad really, but what kind of sister would I be if I didn't tell her otherwise?

He grunted, throwing the spear into the water, then grabbed it and pulled it out, fish and all.

"Another one?"

"Yes. Aunt Ana says you make too many holes in your others in practise," I smirked.

Uncle Darian and Papa had been training him for five years now, for when his 'time' came.

He waded back to the bank and dropped the fish next to me, with the other one he'd caught.

"What do they need me for now?" he grumbled, running his fingers through his cropped brown hair to mess it up even more.

"See if it fits," I replied, in my best 'durh' tone. "Don't be daft, Dag…And Caelan wants to see you…" I finished with a grin, inspecting my grubby fingers.

He was almost more fun to tease about this than she was.

Sure enough, his cheeks coloured and he ducked his head.

"Quiet, Malise."

He only used my full name when he was trying to be stern with me.

"Why? Everyone knows she likes you. _I _bet she wants to get married, and have babies, and…_ow_! Dag!" I scowled at him and rubbed at the back of my head where he'd cuffed me. "What was that for?"

He glared at me and said, "Shut up. I'm not marrying her."

I grumbled, "You're no fun…"

"That's right. So be quiet."

I humphed and glared at the back of his head as he descended back into the water. "You're mean. I'll tell Uncle Darian."

"Do warriors tattle tale?"

I bit my bottom lip. I hated it when he pulled this card.

"No," I replied sulkily. "They look out for one another."

"And do warriors sulk?"

"…No."

"Do you want to be a warrior?"

"Yes."

"Then stop sulking, little warrior."

"_Shhh, Dag!_" I hissed at him, glancing around me wildly. "Don't _say_ that! What if Papa or someone hears you?"

He chuckled, "There's no one else here to hear me, silly."

I relaxed a little at his words, but kept glancing at the rolling grass around us in case someone was to jump out of it. Papa may have forbidden the idea of me going with Dagonet, but I had become intrigued with it. Or at least I was intrigued with the idea of being a gallant warrior that featured in many a story around the fire.

Dag humoured me, taking time out of his day to teach me bits and pieces of what he was being taught. How to properly hold a sword and string an arrow (next we would work on making it fly straight). Which wood made the best arrows and how to fletch them, how to sharpen throwing knives and every other kind of blade. And how to take proper care of your horse- something that every Sarmatian learnt anyway.

Since Dag was also being trained by old Miach, our ancient healer, I also got instructions on how to bind wounds and splint broken bones. That was as far as we'd gotten there. Stitching made me queasy.

"…Papa will be mad if he finds out, won't he?"

"Then he better not find out then," he mumbled as the fish once again consumed his attention.

oOo

It was several nights later, when the Elders and our parents were having their monthly 'adults only' time, when the forbidden was talked of again. Dagonet, I and our brother and sisters were in the separated sleeping area of our tent, while the adults spoke in the main room.

Caelan sat on her sleeping pallet, sewing cradled in her lap while she spoke in hushed whispers to Kaley and Kyla. Dag and I sat near the heavy material barrier, trying to catch snippets of the conversation outside and appear like we weren't. Keal and Fallon played not far from us, having been put under our supervision.

Romans had been mentioned a few times, the name mostly growled or spat by the men. The rest of what they were saying was hard to hear.

I glared at the floor in annoyance, pulling at a loose thread in my skirt.

"Why can't they talk clearer?" I whispered to my best friend, leaning back against the pallet we were sitting against.

"That would ruin the point on having a private meeting," Dag pointed out smugly.

I shoved his arm, "Shut up, smarty pants."

He shoved me back, and sent me sprawling.

"You'll pay for that!" I growled, leaping to my feet and tackling him as he laughed at me.

His laughter became an 'oof' as I collided with his stomach and we both rolled around the floor, struggling to best the other. If he got me pinned, I'd have no hope; because he was three times my size and had triple my strength. But I was more agile and managed to dodge most of his attempts to trap me.

We rolled past the crack in the door and just as we did, a voice carried through.

"They are due in five years! We are running out of options, Faolan!" the exasperated voice of Rafer said. He was one of the elders. "We need to come to a decision-soon. If you do not have a son to offer then we will all suffer."

"I have no such son," Papa returned, his voice icy. "Even if we were to have one, he would not be of age when they come. It would be the same outcome."

"There is another way..." Rafer continued.

"_No_!" Papa spat.

I could almost see his fists clenching, perhaps one reaching for a sword that wasn't there. I found he did that when he got mad, out of habit no doubt.

"Faolan, please, calm yourself," the older voice of Milchek, our clan leader, said evenly. "It is time we think about the situation seriously. We cannot move- they will only begin a manhunt for us all. They will not see reason. Darian's youngest will not be of age either, only Dagonet will be taken. They will not see it as a debt fully repaid."

"It's _never_ repaid, though, is it?" Uncle Darian growled. "They come again and again. No amount of our blood will satisfy them. It would have been better if we had died in our service. Then we would not be condemning our children to this fate!"

"Darian…" the soft voice of my Aunt Ana soothed. "Sit, it is not your fault."

"We understand that this is difficult, for you most of all. All of Sarmatia has felt the Roman's cruelty. But we must survive to fight another day," Elder Milchek said.

"There is no point in fighting if our children are _dead_!"

"What do you suggest we do?" Mama spoke up, her usually sweet voice was hard. "Send one of the girls instead?"

There was silence and Dag and I stared at each other in shock, leaning close to catch the next words.

"No…" My mother whispered after no one answered her. "_NO_! You can't be _serious_?"

"I'm afraid, Phyla, that I am. One of your daughters must take the place."

"_No_, they would never allow it. They only take sons, they can't…" she trailed off, choking of the end of her sentence. "They _can't_…"

"They would not be seen as a girl. We'd have to disguise them, teach them, like a boy." He explained.

"Silence, old man," Papa snarled.

A fist was brought down on the wooden table, rattling mugs.

"Or you will see what the Romans made of me!"

"Faolan!" Mama cried. "_Sit. Down!_"

"Goes for you, too," Aunt Ana muttered, no doubt tugging on Uncle Darian's tunic. "All of you, enough is enough. The girls aren't going, that is the end of it."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Rafer sneered.

I never did like the man, and now my dislike of him grew.

"Sacrifice many to save just one?"

There was a scuffle, something smashed, then a loud thump.

There were several gasps, then my Aunt's voice sounded, "Darian! Release him, now!"

"He wants to send more of our children to the slaughter, if he is so keen, he will be the next in line to Death's door," my Uncle said, in the lowest, most frightening voice I had ever heard.

The girls had stopped giggling, the babies stopped playing with their wooden carvings, and we all fell silent, staring at the flap.

There was a heavy sigh, breaking the muffled whimpers of, who I assumed was, Rafer. "Let him be, brother. His blood is not worth dirtying your blade, or my floor. There has been enough killing," Papa said sounding tired, and defeated.

"I'll take him out to where the pigs are slaughtered then, shall I?" Darian's voice was laced with a kind of dark humour then sent chills down my spine.

"He deserves death for this treason! Sending daughters? _Our_ daughters? Do you have any idea what would happen to them if they were discovered? You remember what the Pigs did to their _own_ women- let alone what they would do to _ours_!"

"It does not matter, because they aren't going," Papa replied calmly.

"Not all, Faolan, just one," Milchek eased, equally as calm.

There was another paused, before my mother broke it, "Malise?"

My breathing stopped and Dagonet's wide, frightened eyes swung to mine. I was to go? _Me_?

"She is the logical choice. Caelen would never stomach that life, she is too much like you. Fallon won't be old enough, but Malise…she'd make a fine knight, as good as any boy. You can't tell me you don't see it in her, or know that she trains with Dagonet when they think we aren't looking." The leader said.

'Shit!' I mouthed at Dagonet, glaring at him. 'You said…'

He waved me off and leaned closer.

"Whether she would make a good Knight or not isn't relevant!" Papa insisted. "She is my daughter, and I will not allow it!"

"Then, we will have to prepare for multiple funerals."

oOo

It was very quiet after the meeting had ended and everyone had left. But it wasn't an easy quiet, the air was thick and tense and both my parents were refusing to speak or look at us, mainly me. Mama was sitting at the table, needle and thread in hand, mending a cloak or some such thing. And Papa was leaning against the side, looking out into the dulling world that we called home.

I took a deep breath, and held it for a moment. Caelen was obviously trying to ignore it, instead busying herself with Fallon. The words of the meeting kept ringing in my head, replaying over and over, eating away at my curiosity.

"Am I to go with Dagonet?" I asked in a rush, drawing all the eyes to me.

Mama dropped her sewing on the table and fixed me with her stern, blue-eyed gaze. "No, you most definitely aren't."

"But what about when _they_ come? What will happen?"

"Malise…" Caelen said, in an attempt to hush me.

"We will deal with that when the time comes." Mama said, shooting a glance at Papa. "_You_ are _not _going."

"I can do it," I said in a small voice, drawing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. "I can be just as good as Dag."

Mama sighed and said, "It's not about whether or not you can do it, Mali. It isn't worth the risk of losing you. The life of a knight is not one you want to live. It is no place for a little girl."

Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she finished, "_I won't lose you_, Mali."

"You wouldn't lose me, Mama," I smiled. "I'd come home…"

"Enough, little one," Papa interrupted as one tear slipped down Mama's cheek. "That's enough."

"But…"

He gave me a look that had me swallowing my words.

"Malise."

It was the clearest warning.

"I can do it," I whispered into my knees. "I can."

Papa sighed heavily and came to sit at the table, taking Mama's trembling hand in his and stared at her. She ripped her hand from his and stood so fast her chair knocked backwards. Caelan gasped in surprise and even I started at the sudden display.

"No!" Mama snapped, pointing a quivering finger under Papa's nose. "No baby of mine will _ever_ face the pitiful life of a knight! How _dare you_, her _father_, even consider it?"

"Phyla…"

"Do not speak to me! You're in with the horses for a _month_, you hear me?"

"Phyla, please…"

"_Don't!" _

My older sister tugged nervously on my arm.

"Come on, Mali. I think we should go and see Uncle for a while…"

As my parents continued to stare each other down, I nodded my agreement and stood, hurriedly trailing after Caelan and Fallon out of the tent. Together we ran across the village to Dag's home and Caelan rapped on the thick tent walls and stuck her head through the flap.

"Caelan?" I heard my Aunt's confused voice say.

"Can we come in?" My sister asked quickly.

Without waiting for a reply, I sulked in under her nose and stalked across the warm, homely room to fall on my backside at Uncle Darian's feet, "Mama and Papa are havin' it out."

"Because _you_ refused to keep your mouth shut!" Caelan cried, bringing herself and little Fallon in out of the crisp night air.

Putting out baby sister down, she crawled across the floor to where the twins were playing.

"If you hadn't mentioned it, everything would be fine!"

I snorted and rolled my eyes at our Uncle.

"The Elders meant that I was to go, didn't they?"

He sighed, exchanged a look with Aunt Ana and ruffled my hair, before saying, "Aye, Mali, they meant it."

"She can't go," Caelan sniffed. "She's a girl, girls don't become knights."

"Then I don't want to be a girl!"

Uncle Darian chuckled. "You certainly have the spirit of a warrior, little one. But you don't want to go into service."

"But bad things will happen if I don't, won't they?" I asked softly, staring down at my hands.

I looked around, noticing for the first time that Dag was missing.

"How come Dag gets to go without a fuss?"

"It's part of the contract," Aunt Ana said sadly. "The sons of past Knights have to serve, there's nothing anyone can do for my boy."

She sounded like she truly regretted that. I bit my lip as her eyes filled with tears. "But we _can_ do something for you. We will figure something else out. We will, you'll see."

"But there isn't time!" I insisted. "I haven't any brothers, and if you wait to train me I won't be as ready!"

Uncle Darian raised his eyebrows, "Just how much have you heard?"

"Oh…enough…"

I knew the basic story, everyone did. But the men didn't like sharing anything else, but they did tell Dagonet, to prepare him. And getting information out of Dag was easier than shooting a still target. So I've heard, anyway. My arrows don't fly straight.

He didn't look convinced. "So…I hear Dagonet has been tutoring you in the art of warfare."

Caelan gasped, "Malise!"

I averted my eyes, "Uh…maybe…."

Uncle Darian laughed and asked, "And what have you been learning?"

"…Stuff…"

He settled me with level eyes. "Malise…"

"Swords and stances and arrow making and sharpening and the likes," I muttered finally. "And, I didn't _mean_ to shoot ol' Hiccy, honest! The arrow just went…in the wrong direction…"

Dag had had a terrible time explaining _why _the goat had an arrow in her arse. My Aunt and Uncle both laughed and shook their heads while my sister huffed.

"If you knew what we were doing, why didn't you stop us?" I asked them curiously.

The pair of adults exchanged another glance. "It wasn't hurting anything…almost." Aunt Ana chuckled.

Uncle Darian smirked.

"Your aim needs work, girl."

I pouted and replied, "I know."

"You've always wanted to learn. It was a way for Dagonet to keep in good practice and you picked up a few things…from what I hear, you catch on to it pretty quickly."

I nodded quickly, grinning, and said, "I love training! It's the best ever, better then cooking or sewing or _any_ of that other stuff."

He smiled, almost sadly, and took my small, smooth hands in his large, calloused, ones.

"I won't deny it, Mali. I believe you would be a great Knight; one to be reckoned with. And you have something that I can't imagine any others will have."

"What's that?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

"Willingness." He shook his head. "It would give you an advantage. Those who want to learn, learn better, and _faster_, than those who don't."

I replied in a soft, but firm voice, "I want to learn."

My Uncle was silent for a moment as he studied me, finally he nodded slowly.

"I know."

**A/N: Well? How was it? **

**As most of you know by now, I'm moving. And it's kinda taking up a lot of my time. And once we've moved, we won't have internet straight away, so I can't really tell you for sure when the next chapter will be up. I never know the what's happening until its happening lol. I'm guessing we'll be leaving in the next 3-4 days though. So when I suddenly drop off the radar, you'll know why lol. For updates on what's happening, check my profile. I'll try to let you guys know as soon as I do. **

**Anyways, thanks so much for reading. Don't forget to REVIEW! (:**

**~Meg xx**


	3. Chapter 3: Decided

**A/N: Hello Lovelies! Sorry about the wait, been busy **_**again**_**. I have exams coming up and I've been away working. Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy this one!**

**Thank you very much **_**princesspomegranate, Girl In the Library Corner, Lady of Sign, brandibuckeye **_**and **_**Regin **_**for the wonderful reviews ^^ And thanks to my wonder-worker-BETA princesspomegranate for her help. Love ya Chicka! **

**. : Chapter 3: Decided : .**

We spent the rest of the night with Uncle Darian and Aunt Ana. Neither Papa nor Mama came to fetch us, which could only mean that they were still arguing. Dag finally returned, just as the last embers of the fire were beginning to die. In the soft glow remaining in the room, I could see the dark smudges under his eyes.

His father squeezed his shoulder as he passed, murmured a few words to him, and sent him to bed. As my best friend flopped ungracefully onto his sleeping pallet beside me, I rolled over to face him.

"Learn anything new?" I whispered, referring to his healing lesson. Why he had to have them at ridiculous hours of the night, I had no idea. I would've thought that he'd remember it better if he did it in the day time- when he wasn't freezing his arse off. It was always cold at night, summer or no.

He tilted his head to squint at me in the dimming light. "Not really," came his grunted answer, equally as quiet. "Just more about how to cure fevers."

"Oh… no needles?"

He chuckled. "No, no needles."

"Next time I get a fever, you can practice on me, then." I grinned. It was a lie, of course. I refused to be the practice dummy, even if I trusted him.

He snorted softly, obviously seeing through my words. "Sure, and I'll wear a dress to do it."

I giggled. That would be almost worth it.

We lay in silence for a while. I pulled and twisted my fingers and popped my knuckles- a nervous habit I got from Papa. Plucking up the courage, I reached out from under the fur and poked Dag's cheek.

His eyes flicked open and narrowed on me. "What, Mali?"

"Did you hear anything from our tent?"

He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "No. But ol' Miach had me pack two field kits. And Pa just asked me to bring another bow and quiver to practice tomorrow." His eyes were wide. "Mali, I think…"

"That I'm going with you." I breathed.

oOo

I was woken roughly the next morning by something continuously poking my forehead. I cracked open one eye and blinked repeatedly to clear my blurry vision. When the fuzziness faded, I was able to focus on Dag.

"You got a death wish?" I hissed, voice slurry and laced with sleep. "Go 'way."

He shook his head, grinning slightly. "Get up. We have to be at the target fields by dawn."

My other eye shot open, and I sat bolt upright. "You mean I'm…"

"Training. Yes, Pa said." He wrapped his hand around a stray dark lock and tugged on it. "If we're late, we have to run extra laps. So hurry up."

I scurried to my feet, frantically searching for my heavier woollen dress that I'd taken off before bed. I yanked the material over my head, and then hopped from foot to foot while I pulled my boots on. I narrowly missed tripping over the twins in the process. Then I waited- not so patiently-at the tent flap, bouncing on the balls of my feet while gesturing wildly to Dag.

"Hurry _up_!" I hissed, bolting out of the tent and into the crisp morning air without waiting for him to reach me. It was cold, and a shiver wracked my slim frame immediately, but it did little to dampen my mood. I would've laughed if I hadn't feared waking everyone else.

There was a soft glow from the horizon, emitting just enough light so that I could see. My breath clouded in front of me, my fingers and nose tingled with the chill, but I grinned nonetheless. As soon as Dagonet appeared, two bows and two quivers full of arrows slung over his shoulder, I grabbed his hand and ran.

It wasn't like I needed directions to the field the men used for archery practice. I'd followed them there often enough.

We arrived just as the sun was beginning to make its appearance over the plains. Uncle Darian, Papa and Milchek were already there, waiting for us. I practically skipped over to them, still towing poor Dag along behind me. He'd said several cuss words on the way here as I may, or may not, have taken a path more suited to my shorter height.

But it didn't matter. He'd live.

My Uncle laughed and shook his head as we neared. Our Elder cracked a smile that brought out all the wrinkles in his old face, and Papa, even through his sullen expression, had amusement in his eyes.

"That has to be the fastest I've ever seen a woman get up." Uncle Darian grinned, trying to lighten the mood. Like always. "Did you dislocate my son's shoulder on the way here, Mali? He looks like he's in pain."

Dag swore and cuffed the back of my head. "She towed me under a tree branch, Pa."

"You shoulda ducked, shouldn't ya?" I smirked at him, jumping back so he couldn't hit me again. I turned my attention back to the men, and said seriously. "He was going too slowly."

Papa sighed, and unfolded his arms. He didn't look pleased. "Mali, you have to take this seriously."

"I am!"

"If you are to…become a knight," it looked like it pained him to say the words. "Then you have to listen to _everything _we tell you. It isn't a game, and it certainly isn't easy."

"I know."

"No, you _don't _know, Malise." His voice had an edge to it. One I'd never heard before. And it made a bolt of fear shoot through my veins. "You can't think about what you're doing. You can't feel, or else it'll get too much. If you let it get to you, it will destroy you. If you show weakness, you'll be preyed upon. If you become too much of a threat, you'll be targeted. They'll hate you; treat you like you're the shit under their horses' hooves. You're nothing but a slave; one that has to jump every time the master says to jump." He stared right at me, his dark eyes blacker then the moonless nights. It was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen. "You'll have to be cold, to _everyone_. You'll have to be harsh and feared. No one can get close to you. _No one can know you're a girl_. D'you hear me?"

I nodded, my breath caught in my throat. "Yes, Father."

He nodded sharply. "Good. Let's see what Dagonet has taught you, then, shall we? When we're done here, you're to go to your mother and aunts. You'll have to have tunics and breeches made. You can't very well be a man in a dress."

I gave my consent mutely; my hands had become clammy and shook slightly. It wasn't so much what he'd said; it was more how he'd said it. And his eyes, how black and…and _haunted _they were. I had his eyes. Would mine be like that after I became a knight? Would mine invoke the same heart-shattering fear that my father's could?

"You scared the girl, Faolan." Milchek chastised Father softly.

I cringed. That was _not _the right thing it say…

"She should be scared!" Papa spat viciously, his hands clenched so tightly they were white. And his eyes, which had returned somewhat to their normal passiveness, were again as black as the darkest night. "If you ask this of me- to send my own daughter to her death- then I _will_ prepare her! Even if it means I have to destroy who she is now!" He spun on his heel, and stalked away, leaving Uncle Darian to supervise the lesson.

"Leave the training to us, Milchek." Uncle said. There was coldness in his voice to, but it wasn't nearly as pronounced as it was in Papa's. "They are our children. We will train them how they need to be trained."

"Very well." The old man backed down easily, knowing not to push the old knights any further. He looked at me. "Good luck."

As he shuffled away, Uncle Darian sighed. "Come now; we won't get anywhere if we don't get started." He took a bow and quiver from Dag and guided them into my still-shaky hands. "Just breathe, Mali. Your Papa will come 'round. It's hard for him, for us, to do this to you and Dagonet."

I clasped the bow tightly, and stared up at my new teacher with determination. "I will make him proud."

Uncle smiled and ruffled my hair. "He already is."

oOo

A string of well-formed curses left my lips as what was probably my hundredth arrow sailed through the air, completely missing the target by about the width of our fattest horse.

I lowered the bow, scowling. There were arrows strewn all along the ground between me and the wooden target. A quick glance at Dagonet's target had me biting my tongue to stop myself from cursing again. But, I swear if he hit it one more time, I was going to strangle him with my bow string.

"Better."

"Least she sounds like a man."

I glared up at Uncle and Papa, who had returned about an hour after we'd started, having calmed down. We didn't know what he or Uncle Darian did to 'calm down', it was just something we never asked about since it seemed truly private to the old knights.

Huffing, I turned back to the bane of my existence. "It hates me."

Dag stifled a laugh, which he choked on when I swung my glare in his direction. "You'll get better. This is only your first day." He promised me with a smile.

"You've been trying to show me this for months." I stated dryly.

"You've got better teachers now."

"They're telling me the same things you were."

"Well…you didn't hit anything you shouldn't have."

Only just. I'd missed Uncle Darian's foot by a hairs width. I knew it was bad, because then he wouldn't stand beside me, only several paces back. And even then, he still acted like it wasn't safe.

The look on my face must have told them what I was thinking, because Papa cleared his throat and put a hand on my shoulder. "It takes some longer than others. And even then, not everyone becomes gifted at it. You have plenty of talent for other things." He leaned down, so he could whisper in my ear. "I think we've done enough archery today, since you've managed to strike fear into the heart of a fearless warrior." He winked at me as I giggled and straightened.

"Time for your laps." Papa announced, while Uncle eyed him suspiciously. He was purposely ignored. "Malise, you do five then get home to your mother. I promised you'd be there for lunch. Dagonet, the usual."

We both nodded and set our bows down, in my case dropped it, and began the field laps at a steady jog.

"This isn't so bad." I remarked once we were far enough away that we could no longer hear Uncle Darian pestering Papa about what he'd said to me. "I don't know why you complain."

"I do _not_ complain." Dag returned immediately. "And don't you let them hear you say it's easy. If they think that, then they'll make it harder. It's get harder anyway. This is only your first _real _day, they'll go easy on you for the first week or so, to get you used to it. Then it'll be harder."

I grinned. "Sounds good."

He rolled his eyes at me. "You're so weird, Mali."

oOo

After I'd finished my five laps, which left me fairly puffed and red faced- it _was_ a big field- I trotted home on wobbly legs. I definitely agreed with Papa though, I needed breeches. Badly.

As I passed through the village, I noticed the badly concealed stares. Not so much staring, I suppose, just glances that I couldn't properly decipher. But it felt like staring since there was _always_ one set of eyes on me. I got to our tent and, out of habit, dusted myself off before taking a deep breath and entering. I wasn't quite sure what I expected on the other side.

It was warm inside. It looked the same, felt the same, and even had the familiar smell of Mama's stew cooking over the fire. I didn't know why I thought it was going to be different.

Mama, Aunt Ana, and Mama's younger sister, Aunt Raliah, were all seated around the table. My siblings and cousins were scattered around the floor and I could hear some in the other room.

They looked up as I entered, and it made me nervous. I took my fingers and twisted them, dropping my gaze to the floor.

"Oh, Mali, my girl." Mama said softly. I heard the soft padding of her feet across the pelt covered floor and then felt her arms grab my shoulders and pull me to her.

"Are you mad at me?" I murmured into her stomach, winding my arms around her as she stroked my hair and teased out a twig that I hadn't known was there.

"Gods, no! I am not mad at _you_, Mali. Never could I be mad at you for this." She tilted my face up so she could see it. Her eyes were glazed with unshed tears as she cupped my face and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'm very proud of you…and very scared."

"Of me?" I squeaked, horrified.

"No! Never that either." She shook her head. "For you; I'm scared _for _you."

"Mama, I'll be alright."

She gave me a watery smile, like she didn't quite believe me. "We can't dwell on it now though. What's done is done." Her voice had a touch of bitterness to it. "We can only prepare, and hope for the best. How was training?"

She led me over to the table and sat me down, placing a steaming bowl of stew in front of me. Both my Aunts smiled at me, and I was glad that my third Aunt wasn't here. Aunt Henna was Mama's older sister, and by far my least favourite Aunt. Papa didn't like her either.

I shrugged, blowing on the spoon full of food before putting it anywhere near my mouth. I'd learnt that lesson the hard way. "Alright. Papa got really cross at the start; I thought he was gonna run Elder Milchek through right there. Then we did archery," I scrunched up my nose. "I'm no good at archery. I nearly shot Uncle Darian in the foot. Then we did laps, then Papa sent me home. Said he'd promised you I'd be here for lunch. Dag's still running laps."

"You've had an easy morning then?" Aunt Ana chuckled. "I would've loved to have seen the archery incident."

I grinned meekly. "The other two thought it was funny. They don't stand close to me now."

They laughed.

"You'll get it, dear." Aunt Raliah smiled, but her blue eyes showed her worry over the whole thing. I was used to that. "You've got your mother's stubborn streak. You'll surely master anything you put your mind to."

I beamed. "Thanks, Aunt Rali."

She winked at me. "Anytime."

"Now; you'll be needing tunics and breeches." Mama said, seriously, eyeing the state of my dress. "And soon, by the looks of it."

I nodded. "That's what Papa said."

She sighed. "Between you and Dagonet, we'll go through more fabric than any other village."

"And I haven't even done any combat training yet." I said brightly.

She sent me a disapproving look.

**A/N: Tadar! A bit longer one to make up for the wait ^^. Hope you liked it. **

**Now just a couple of points, a few people have mentioned about this being a Dagonet/OC story…the truth is…I haven't settled on a pairing yet. I **_**was**_** thinking to have the big man as more of a brother though. I'm really not sure yet lol. **

**And I will be away again next week for work. I leave on Sunday afternoon and probably get home Thursday night. So yeah, I won't have internet there therefore there won't be any updates until next weekend, sorry! Need the money though, story of our lives right? Lol.**

**Thank you for reading, **_**please review!**_

**Love, **

**~Meg x x **


	4. Chapter 4: New Day, New Life, New Me

**A/N: Evening all, apologies for the wait. I've had some internet troubles, as well as getting sick, hence the delay. Sorry! Hope your all well and you enjoy this chapter (: **

**Warm thanks and cookies to **_**Druid Archer, brandibuckeye, Scottjunkie **_**and**_** princesspomegranate **_**for their lovely and encouraging reviews **

**And as always, thank you very much to my wonderful BETA **_**princesspomegranate**_** (: **

**. : Chapter 4: New Day, New Life, New Me : .**

It progressed slowly from that point. All of my clothes turned into tunics and breeches and jerkins. Ones for rain, sunshine, wind, snow and every other type of weather. Mama had gone a little overboard, not that anyone dared say so. The women of our village were, more often than not, scarier than the men.

I started being put with the boys. Encouraged to join in with their games and being given chores normally reserved for the sons. I watched how they acted. How they walked, how they talked, what they talked about.

It seemed that the older they got, the sillier they got. Mama said this was normal.

Copying them didn't turn out to be all that difficult. I found more enjoyment out of their chores and games then I had out of the girls'. There was no knitting or cooking or cleaning (unless you counted cleaning weapons, horses and saddles). There were no whispers of new dresses or handsome young men, who'd be a good match for who.

I came to the conclusion that I should've been born a boy.

The worst thing was that they were, put simply, disgusting. I mean, I wasn't really fond of bathing, but boys were just terrible. And they had the most horrible discussions about girls.

I once mentioned several things I'd heard to Mama, and she'd turned pale and gasped like it was the worst thing ever. I didn't understand it. Thankfully. But I did understand when I heard the horse-breeder's middle son comment on Caelan, and how she'd turn out to be 'quite the woman'.

I enjoyed spending a good ten minutes or so making the little bastard regret that; until Dag found us and saved him that is.

Really it was his own fault. He was stupid enough to say it where I could hear him.

Training went as Dag had said it would. The first week was fairly easy, though I was sore from the running. The next week was a bit harder, more laps and knife throwing- more things to do with aim. We all learnt pretty quickly that my aim was pretty terrible. Dag even got a scar on his arm to prove it.

We moved on to swordsmanship, push-ups, sit-ups, swimming (when we didn't need to chip the ice off the stream), horsemanship, axes, daggers and every other type of weapon in the village. Each week Papa and Uncle Darian added something else, until finally we were getting up an hour before the sun, and finishing after dark.

I worked hard; relentless. I wasn't as strong as Dag was; whether that was because I was younger or a girl, I wasn't sure. But I was fast, agile. My brother, as Papa called us 'brothers', developed quite the skill with the battle axe. He was also good with a broad sword and long bow.

I was good with a light, slightly curved sword. It was easy for me to wield as it complimented my speed, Uncle had said. I eventually got better with knives, too. Arrows were still a little chancy; but at least I was hitting the damn target now.

On rare occasions when I wasn't training, Mama trapped me with her and we worked on my appearance and my manner. My cover.

She planned everything. How I'd act, who I should befriend and who I should avoid.

I thought about pointing out that she hadn't met any of the people that I would come into contact with (except Dag), but she seemed to have a description for every type of person imaginable, and lectured me lengthily on how to tell friend from foe.

"We'll leave your hair long," she said after a week long debate about it. It seemed such a simple thing to me. After all, there were only two options; long or short.

"But not too long," Aunt Ana countered, looking up from the fire place over the pot of stew. It was just us three in her tent. "About shoulder length, maybe a bit longer."

Mama nodded.

"Yes," she ran her fingers through my dark hair and sighed.

"It won't be able to be too neat. You'll need to keep a sort of wild look."

She then reached for the dagger regretfully, pausing a moment before taking to the locks.

"It doesn't bother me," I said, now at seven summers old. "To cut it, I mean."

I was trying to make her feel better.

"I know, dear girl," Mama said as the dark strands rained down to the floor with each slice. "It's such a shame though. You'll be so very beautiful, you _are_ so very beautiful. And it all has to be hidden."

I didn't know what to say, I never did when she got like that. Mama was the most upset at turning me into a boy. I think Papa was secretly happy now that he had someone to teach, but he still got that dark look in his eyes sometimes, when anyone spoke of us leaving. Both of my parents still resented the Elders. They rarely spoke nowadays.

When Mama had finished with my hair, it was sort of straggly. It was cut at different lengths, and a lot of it hung over my face, to help hide it. I found though, amazingly, that I could still see just fine.

"There," Mama pursed her lips as she studied me. "What do you think, Ana?"

My Aunt came over and fingered a lock that hung over the corner of my left eye. "Very effective. At a glance, she would be taken as a boy."

"You'll have to learn how to not let people look, Mali," Mama said, brushing her soft fingers along my cheek. "No one can see inside. No one can know. Now, I've come up with a plan-"

This would be the part where Papa would say, with a loud exaggerated groan, _'Gods help us'_.

"-To keep your secret."

I nodded, "What?"

This, so far, had been a year long debate.

"I believe that the secret will be your reputation. If people do not look, they will not see the truth; they will not see the girl that lies beneath." She said slowly. "You'll have to build yourself a reputation, Mali. You'll have to make them _not want to look_. And the best way to do that is to have them scared of you. People don't look at things that they're scared of."

"How will I do that?" I asked curiously. It seemed like a pretty good idea, actually.

She gave me a sorrowful look, and replied in a slow, pained voice, "What a man fears the most, is what can kill him, Mali."

I knew what she was saying then. I had to be known for one thing; killing. If they thought me blood-thirsty, like how Papa and Uncle described the native rebels, Woads, then they'd leave me well alone. For fear of their lives. It would work.

"I understand," I said quietly.

Mama nodded, and tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace, "Now, despite what we've all told you up until now, I've decided you will need a female friend."

At my confused look, she elaborated, "A girl who knows you're a girl. Dagonet will be your healer and helper; but he is male, and no matter how good he is, he won't be able to help you all the time. You will need a female friend, someone you can talk to when you start becoming a woman. But you have to be careful, Mali, you must choose this girl carefully. You must think long and hard, and it probably wouldn't hurt to get Dagonet's opinion on her either. But she _must not_ be one of _them_."

I nodded again. One of _them_ meant a Roman. They didn't say Roman now. Not when there were much better words for them. Not that I was ever planning on making friends with any of those backstabbing, slobbering, greedy, cruel, lazy, deceitful, utter arseholes. Uncle would be so proud of my descriptive progress. Mama would probably thump me. Needless to say, I kept my thoughts to myself.

Mama's suggestion made sense enough. But I was tempted to ask how I'd manage to form a friendship with anyone other than Dag, what with everyone fearing me and all; but I didn't. I'd figure it out.

At my Mother's dubious look, I added a smile to my nod and kissed her cheek.

"I will, Mama. I promise. Thank you for helping, but I'm late for training."

She sighed, defeated, and patted my cheek, "Of course, just tell them it was my fault. But, Mali?"

I turned from where I was leaving the tent, "Yeah?"

"Don't, for the love of the gods, tell your father that I said to tell someone your secret."

I grinned at her, "Wouldn't dream of it, Mama."

As I departed with a wave, she smiled and murmured softly, "That's my girl."

oOo

"What, in the name of the Gods, happened to you?"

I blinked at Dag as he stared at me, "What?"

"Your hair…it's…"

"You look bloody terrible, girl," Uncle filled in for his speechless son.

A hand subconsciously reached up to twist itself into the newly cut, messy-looking locks. I shrugged. "Mama did it. It's harder to see my face now."

"You can't go around like that," Papa said sternly. "It's in your eyes! You'll miss incoming attacks!"

"No, I won't," I protested, crossing my arms stubbornly across my chest. "I can see just fine."

"Faolan," Uncle started thoughtfully. "You remember Herris? He always had hair in his eyes."

"He died in our third year," Papa replied dryly, before turning his gaze back on me. "Malise, you go back to your Mother right now and…"

"Yes, but he died of some illness, remember? Not on the battle field," Uncle interrupted. "He was a fine fighter, never seemed to bother him."

Papa glared at him, "I'm not taking any chances with Mali and that's final."

"But Papa!" I whined. "It hides my face! No one can tell I'm a girl. And I'll get used to it, we've got lots of time to practise with it like this."

"It's too risky."

"It's more risky if we tie it back and they find out she's a girl," Uncle reasoned, clapping Papa on the shoulder in a comforting gesture. "She'll be fine, Faolan. She's _your_ daughter, after all."

"And her being my daughter has done her a lot of good so far, hasn't it?" he retorted sarcastically, levelling me with bleak eyes. "I don't think it's a good idea, girl."

"I can manage," I insisted sternly. I reached down and picked up my sword from where it lay in the neat pile of weapons.

Picking up Dagonet's as well, I threw it to him and he caught it, by the hilt, without missing a beat, "Watch."

Setting myself in a fighting stance, feet shoulder width apart, relaxed but alert, sword grasped firmly in my hand and raised to waist level, I gestured for him to come at me.  
>He didn't look convinced that this was in any way a good idea, but after a stern look, Dag sighed and raised his sword obligingly.<p>

Our forms were still far from perfect, not at all smooth or graceful or efficient like Papa and Uncle's seemed to be. But we still managed.

I let Dag have the offence, mainly to prove my point. I could still see all his launches and parried them in time. My hair was a bit of a distraction, mainly because it was new, no doubt. But I figured I'd get used to that. As Dag brought his sword down upon me, like it was an axe and I was suddenly a block of wood, I quickly brought mine up to meet it. The ring of steel clashing echoed in my ears and my arms pained with the amount of force he'd used behind the blow.

My breath came out in a _'whoosh' _and as we held that position, I glared at him through the dark strands that hung down. I hoped suddenly that they didn't shield my face enough so that my glare was hidden.

"Are you trying to ram me into the ground?" I demanded hotly. "I am not a post, brother."

He grinned a little sheepishly and removed his blade, allowing me to lower mine. That position was starting to make my arms ache.

"Sorry. Didn't realise I'd used that much force."

I huffed, but did little else. I'd get him back.

We looked over at our fathers expectantly.

"Well?" I asked.

Papa sighed and Uncle tilted his head at him, whistling through his teeth.

"Faolan, one day you will have to admit it to yourself that she can probably handle this."

"_Probably_?" I reset my glare to him.

Was the ability to be obnoxious inheritable? I cast a glance between father and son and decided that yes, it probably was.

"Can. _Can _handle this," Uncle corrected himself and winked at me in amusement. "Better?"

"Yes."

"Atta girl."

Papa shook his head, "It is a wonder either of them will be prepared for this. You're the most childish teacher there is. And Malise…"

I raised my dark eyes to the ones I'd inherited them from silently.

He hesitated, "I want to tune your ears to the sounds of different weapons, _that_ is my condition for you keeping this hair."

My brow creased. Tune my ears? I was fairly certain I knew the 'sounds of weapons' but I wasn't willing to argue with Papa about his training. I nodded my head in acceptance.

He smiled a little and said, "Very well, then."

oOo

Apparently, I was wrong when I thought I knew the sounds of weapons. Or I was wrong in the sense of how I was going to be taught to identify them.

I let out a little squeal as something whistled through the air past my right ear and landed with a _thunk_ behind me. I was more than a little jumpy.

Strangely enough, being blindfolded while things that I knew could kill me were hurled at me made me nervous.

As I attempted to calm my heart, I scowled in the direction of the laughter.

"Squealing like a girl won't help hide that you are one," Dag cackled.

I growled, "_You'll_ squeal like a girl when I'm done with you!"

"Now, now, children, be civil; save your anger for your enemies," Papa said, though even _he_ sounded amused. "What was it, Mali?"

I breathed out to calm myself. Having a temper wouldn't get me anywhere, Papa had said countless times. Hotheadedness was coupled with irrationality and more often than not got one into trouble. And trouble had the ability to get one into a grave.

"An arrow."

We'd been doing this exercise for the last two weeks, and I still had reservations about it, but I was learning, oddly enough. Different weapons _did_ make different noises as they cut through the air, making it possible to tell what was coming my way before it actually got to me. I doubted this talent would be really useful in a noisy battle, but it was a skill nonetheless. Good for ambushes, to hear the first swing, or fire. I could even hear the bowstring being pulled. It didn't work over long distances obviously- Uncle said I'd have to have ears the size of a horse's for that.

"Good," Papa said, sounding pleased now. "But Dagonet is right; you can't be squealing or carrying on like this on a battle field. That's an excellent way to get yourself killed."

I shook my head quickly, "It's the dark. I feel…I don't like not being able to see."

"We won't hit you," Uncle said, and I could just tell he was grinning again. "Our aim's better than yours."

That was it. I reached up and ripped the cloth covering my eyes away and blinked a few times to get my eyes to adjust to the light again. When they had, I gave no warning to my charge and tackled my very surprised looking tutor to the ground.

**A/N: (: The chapters should, if they go the way I'm planning it, skip along now. The story will be events and such through the Knight's servitude. Otherwise it would be a very, very, very long story. Lol. **

**I hope you enjoyed reading this one (: I can't say when the next one will be up at this time, but I hope it won't be much longer then a week. See how everything goes I suppose. **

**I'd love to hear what you thought, so please review!**

**~Meg xx**


	5. Chapter 5: Birth of the Sons

**A/N: Evening lovelies c: I promised myself I'd have the next chapter up by my birthday, and I've actually kept it! :D So, without further ado, hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to leave a review-this chapter is styled a little differently to the last ones, so I'm nervous lol. **

**HUGE thanks to **_**Druid Archer, brandibuckeye, Girl In the Library Corner, princesspomegranate**_** and **_**xXxFantasyAmorexXx **_**for their lovely reviews. Your feedback makes it worth every hurdle :).**

**And as always, gracias princesspomegranate for BETAing! Legend!**

**. : Chapter 5: Birth of the Sons : .**

Papa and Uncle Darian had started taking us away from the village in my eighth summer. To live and train in an untouched and untamed world that until then, I'd only glimpsed.

We went everywhere. To the broad open grass plains that stretched on for farther than I could see. To the woods which were home to larger game; living, moving target practice. To the mountains, where it got so bitingly cold that I feared all my fingers and toes would fall off. And even to the sea, which was something truly astounding to me, something I had only ever heard stories about.

We once spent three moons away from home on a trip, a mere taste of what our service would be like.

They watched us most of the time, but sometimes they left us for several nights to fend for ourselves. We had to be tough, had to survive not only our future masters and whatever enemy came our way; we also had to survive nature, if we were ever lost to it. And our teachers assured us that we would be.

"Knights spend almost all of their fifteen years out here," Papa gestured to the crisp, dark air and nothingness that surrounded us.

We were sitting around a fire in the middle of the grass plains, some four day journey from the warmth and security of our home.

The men were no longer our fathers in times like these. They truly became our teachers, showing glimpses of the knights I knew they once were. Who they still were, but that they'd hidden in the darker parts of their souls. And in times like these, they told us stories of their service to Rome.

"Rome enslaves Sarmatians for the simple reason that we are the best at surviving everything. We are born into the wild and raised to thrive in it."

"We adapt and don't need things like plush beds and a tent the size of a hut over our heads to sleep outside," Uncle grinned cheekily.

Papa gave him a sour look, "Darian, I'm trying to be serious."

"You're always trying to be serious. The young 'uns aren't stupid, you could just say the Romans are to soft and we're born with iron blood. They'd understand."

"You always were hideous at storytelling," Papa grinned. "When we actually sat down to tell stories of course. Otherwise you're the first one to fill their heads with horse shit."

Uncle attempted to look insulted, but his eyes shone with mischief.

"I like Uncle's tales," I said airily, watching Dag as he fetched another log and stoked up the flames. "Gives me plenty of ideas of what _not _to do."

"See? My stories are very educational," he grinned at Papa smugly.

Perhaps the knights they once had been _were_ extremely childish when not engaged in battle or some kind of bar fight. Still, I saw a darkness that lurked under the surface. It was a darkness that I knew Papa had never let Mama see; that they had spared their families from seeing. Seeing what knighthood had done to them, what it had turned them into.

Cold blooded killers.

It was to be my fate as well, and Dag's too. It was what our mothers feared, but couldn't comprehend. And what our fathers knew would become of us. To take another's life and to be able to live with yourself… It required darkness in the wielder of the killing blow.

It wasn't something we were necessarily born with, Papa had explained. It was something that grew in us over a very short space of time. Something that _had _to grow quickly or the horror of what we were doing would destroy us, as it had several of their brethren.

As Papa and Uncle Darian continued to squabble like children, I rested my chin on my knees and watched the hungry flames slowly consume the log.

I was to either lose my heart to the blackness, or let the killing kill me. To live or die, I was learning, was what everything came down to.

oOo

"It is legend that all the fallen knights come back as great horses," Uncle said matter-of-factly as he patted the chest of his big, old warhorse fondly. "It's why Sarmatia has the best horses in the world, and why we're the best horsemen."

I cleared my throat.

"And women," he amended.

Really, I didn't care if they called us horse_men_ or horse_women,_ I just enjoyed teasing them. Something which Uncle saw as an extremely good thing -and he boasted was due to his excellent influence- even though he copped most of my teasing.

"The best bond to have is the bond you'll have with your horse," he continued, smoothing his hand down the old bay's neck. "They know the art of war, it's in their blood. They will be your friend, your guide and your saviour. Your horse is your most precious possession. You must _always _look after your horse, as they will look after you. Understand?"

Dag and I nodded. Sarmatians were famed for being horse whispers. We breed the hardiest animals, and have the best companionships with them. Something which all adults, especially old knights, will tell you is because the blood of all our warriors runs in their veins.

My eyes flicked to Papa as he stood aside his favourite mare which was expected to foal any day soon. The mare, Alani- meaning lady-, was the last foal sired by the stallion he'd seen his service years with. The big black was several summers dead now, I could only just recall him as a hazy giant in my memory.

Alani was the spitting image of her sire, pure black, with not a single white hair on her. She was in foal to the old stallion Uncle was currently cooing to like he were a babe, Brata, which meant 'brother' fittingly enough. It would be Brata's final foal, so it was special even before it'd been born.

The Knights had a way with the horses, more so then the rest of our people. Even a blind man could see it. It was… magical. I looked forward to having the same thing.

"You will both have a horse to take with you." Uncle's voice broke me out of my musings.

We would?

"Of course they will," Papa muttered, stroking Alani's huge stomach. "No child of mine will ride any worthless prancer-"

Even the Roman horses were despised here. Apparently, their only attribute was their speed, which Uncle was quick to dismiss as still lacking to ours, but apart from that they weren't suitable for the harsher conditions and were quite ill-tempered and sulky. "-while I'm around, not _even_ when I'm dead."

"Which ones?" Dag asked, straightening. Being given a horse was a great honour.

Uncle smiled at him, "That is up to you, and the horses. You must have the bond, and it will show from the very beginning."

Our entire tribe were mad horse breeders. We had many of them and it was our main form of trade with other tribes. The Sarmatians might band together against the Romans, but before that we didn't really get along well with the others tribes. We might as well have been different people; our only common point was the land of our birth and our general culture. There were four tribes, and those four were then divided up into separate villages.

Dag and I were Roxolani. Son and daughter of the wind. Roxolani villages were all situated on the east of the mountains on the fringes of the Great Plains.

"How will we know?" I asked, gazing around at the many horses grazing lazily in the lush pastures around us. Paddocks were unnecessary, they never strayed far and they always returned.

"You just will," Papa answered, giving Alani one last loving caress before coming to stand at my side and resting a hand on my shoulder. "It's something that words cannot be used to describe."

Uncle added on a side note, "Don't think that one of them will suddenly bounce up to you and starting licking you, it's not always so obvious."

"What a relief," I mumbled dryly as Dag gave his father an equally dry look.

Uncle Darian just grinned at us and clapped his son on the shoulder, "We'll leave you to it, then."

We nodded, and I was only half aware of the old knights leaving. "Do you really think it'll happen to us?" I asked, stroking Brata's white blaze absentmindedly as my eyes scanned the other animals.

Dag and I were the only ones out here, something I think Papa and Uncle had everything to do with. They seemed to banish everyone else. That or everyone else had just left us be. As if we were already dead.

My brother shrugged, "Pa says it will. It did for every other knight, why not us to?" Though he spoke to me, his eyes and most of his attention was on the small group of mares and foals not far from us.

We would need young horses, for them to be able to handle fifteen years of hard work. The foals here were about six months old now; it would give us enough time to have them broken in. But we needed the bond before that could happen.

"Uncle says a lot of things." I pointed out, my lips twisting into a smirk. "I think he took to many blows to the head."

Dag opened his mouth like he might defend his father, but then he shut it with a shake of his head, "No, I can't argue with you there."

I laughed, "It's good when you admit I'm right."

"Don't let it go to your head," he murmured. "Half the time, I think you're mad."

"Gee, thanks, Dag."

oOo

Three nights later, I was standing alone in our shabby-but-did-the-job stables. Outside of Alani's straw-bottom stall, watching the mare pace from one side to the other, blowing out deep breaths and pawing the bed that had been laid down for her.

She was showing the first signs of labour, and I was supposed to go and fetch Papa, but I just stood there.

Her coat was covered with a light sheen of sweat and her demeanour was generally agitated. I should've gone to fetch Papa, or someone who knew what to do at least, but I couldn't seem to move.

The mare, so prized by my father, looked at me. Her big, brown eyes showed fear and pain.

"Shh, girl, it's alright," the words left my lips in a murmur. Extending my hand to her, I stepped into the stall.

She watched me intently, having stopped pacing but continued to stamp her feet, as if she were unable to stand still. There was something about her eyes, something that drew me and kept me from leaving. She was looking at me like she didn't want me to leave.

Mares could be unpredictable during births- the reason why children were generally kept out of the way. But this one let me lay my still-small hand on her velvet nose, and she leaned into the touch.

"Are you scared?" I asked her softly, placing my other hand against her heart to feel its rapid beats. "It's alright, you'll be just fine. I won't leave you, but I should get Papa."

She snorted down my front and tossed her head. I snatched my hands back and stepped away. _Be calm_! Papa's voice echoed through my sudden fear. Horses could sense your moods, and it often affected them the same way. I breathed out slowly and willed my heart beat to calm before stepping towards the mare again.

"I won't then, if that's what you want."

I was talking to a horse as if I was actually having a conversation with her. We might believe in horse's having warrior spirits, but as far as I knew, no one expected them to actually talk to us. I hoped it wasn't a sign of madness.

Alani calmed a little and stopped her pacing again.

I laid my hand against her stomach and felt the foal inside her move. "I wish you _could_ talk, this would be much easier then. I don't know what to do."

She shifted and lowered herself to her knees, the slowly all the way to the soft ground. I kneeled at her head and stroked her cheek in what I hoped was a soothing manner. Her breathing had deepened and grown heavier.

"You'll have to show me," I whispered to her, my fingers drawing circles on her silky black neck, feeling all the muscles straining beneath the skin. "I'm training to be a _knight_, you know, not a midwife. Knowledge of birth isn't needed in death."

She snorted again, as if at me; then let out a pained whinny that made me jump in surprise. Now what had Mama said this was? I couldn't remember, but it meant the foal was ready to come out… I think. "I am _not _suited for this."

Alani tried to raise her head and out of reflex I pushed it back down. "Stay there girl, your alright. Your doin' great, Alani." _I think, I hope._ "Not long now." _I hope._ I did recall labour could last for hours, possibly days in extreme cases. I prayed this was not one of those times.

She squealed again and strained, her breaths coming in short pants. I peered hopefully at her rear end, only to deflate when I saw nothing. Damn, maybe this would take longer than I thought.

oOo

"Mali!"

I looked up at the voice, startled. Papa, Uncle Darian and Uncle Brin, Aunt Rali's husband, stood in the entry to the stall.

Alani let out another pained squeal and my eyes dropped back to her, "Easy, easy, it's just Papa."

She was dripping in sweat by now, I had no idea how much time had passed, but every inch of her was tense and wet. The hooves of the foal were just starting to show, and I knew it would be bad if they were the back hooves.

"Mali! Why didn't you get us?" Papa demanded as the men rushed into the stall and checked Alani over.

"She didn't want me to leave," I answered simply, drawing circles over her face that now rested in my lap. Horse's heads are damn heavy. "I tried to leave, but she got all upset, so I stayed."

"How long has she been like this?" Uncle Brin asked, his green eyes flicking over the mare knowingly as he knelt next to her back end. Uncle Brin was great, and he was very experienced in delivering foals.

"I don't know, exactly," I said helplessly. "She lay down after noon, started the pained noises not long after that, and the hooves have only been showing for five minutes. What time _is _it?"

"Dusk," Uncle Darian answered with a reassuring smile. "She's fine, Mali, calm down."

"You've done well," Uncle Brin agreed, sending me a small smile. He and Aunt Rali had been married for ten summers now, but they are yet to have children. It worried him, I knew, and hurt her. But they were the kindest of Mama's side of the family and I loved them both. They had particular soft spots of us children; a sign they wanted their own.

"She'll be just fine."

I breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank the gods, how much longer?"

"Not long now, hopefully."

Papa knelt beside me, put one hand on my back and one of Alani's neck, "Good girl, good girl."

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me, or the horse.

Alani snorted and pushed again, more of the foal appeared and a part of me lifted when I realised they were indeed the front legs.

"That's it, little one," Uncle Brin cooed encouragingly, patting her rump. "Another push, now, that's it."

I decided then, that if I were ever in this much pain, and someone spoke to me like that, I'd gut them.

It went on for about another fifteen to twenty minutes. The head of the foal had appeared, and the shoulders. It was black, like its mother, but had one white sock on its right leg. Alani gave one final push, and the foal slipped out, along with lots of other stuff I'd rather not know about.

Uncle Brin leapt to help it as it struggled to free itself of the muck that covered it. I was right. It was completely black, apart from that one white sock.

Uncle Darian laughed, "Its birthing fluids, Mali. It's it a beautiful sight isn't it?"

I wrinkled my nose. He'd definitely been hit in the head one too many times with something heavy.

"Wonderful," I replied sarcastically.

The little foal made an attempt at a whinny; and my heart melted. Alani, even in her exhausted state, lifted her head and started to get up. Letting her go, Papa and I got to our feet as well. I had to lean on him as my legs had gone numb.

"A little colt," Uncle Brin declared with a wide grin. "Beautifully healthy and strong."

I've never seen Papa smile so brightly, "Good, very good."

Alani was licking her son clean as he stood on wobbly legs, teetering from side to side as he tried to reach her milk. The mare kept shifting away just as he got in reach.

"She's getting him used to walking as quickly as possible," Papa explained. "She will let him feed when he is clean and mostly stable."

I nodded, my eyes following his every movement. I'd seen foals before of course, but this one was truly beautiful. I smiled when he sneezed and nearly fell over. Then he again resumed his relentless quest for his first drink.

I giggled softly, and it drew the foal's eyes to me and he stood still, watching me and allowing his mother to lick him. I stepped towards him and held out my hand. "Your going to be a beauty, aren't you? And a handful," I stopped about a foot from him, hand still extended.

His eyes, which were as dark as mine, and filled with life, stayed firmly fixed on me. Then tentatively, he stretched out his neck, pushed his tiny, velvety black nose into my open palm, and licked me.

oOo

I named him Tama, which meant darkness. He was to be mine, and I his.

oOo

"_Malise_!"

I raised my eyes from cleaning my sword and raised an eyebrow at my disgruntled looking Uncle, "Yes, dear Uncle?"

Uncle Brin pointed to where my horse was standing, saddle cloth clasped in his teeth, "Get it."

Tama was one year old now, and was as beautiful and troublesome as I'd predicted the night he was born. Sighing, I set my blade and cleaning cloth aside and went to my cheeky stallion. Usually, breaking waited until the horse was two or three years old, but with the Romans due in two short summers, Tama would be broken early to give me plenty of time to bond and get us both used to each other. A rider had to be one with his horse, and that connection, even through the bond we shared now, would still take time to fine tune itself.

"Come, Tama," I whispered softly, knowing he could hear me when his ears flicked in response. "Are you being naughty again? Stop tormenting Uncle and give him back his cloth."

I held out my hand for the material and stared unwaveringly into the dark brown eyes, so dark that they were _nearly_ black.

Tama tossed his head, sending his mane flying. He wasn't fully grown yet, but he would take after his sire and grandsire in height. He was already fifteen hands, and Papa expected him to grow yet another hand, perhaps more. He was thickly muscled, powerful, fast, _perfect_. It was his personality that many found fault with. But I just found him funny.

"Come on, boy," I coaxed when he kept hold of the cloth. "You know how upset Uncle gets when you play. If you give him back his cloth, he might not withhold your snack tonight."

Not that Tama needed his snack- a special mash that the women made, Mama was teaching me the recipe- he was plenty fat enough. Still, he liked it. And he and Belenus, Dag's black two year old stallion-named after the god of healing, were both spoiled rotten.

I grabbed the cloth gently and tugged, he let it free, "Good boy. You're a sucker for your food, aren't you? Hmm? Typical male."

I stoked his silky hide lovingly and pressed a kiss to his nose.

I returned the cloth back to Uncle Brin with an innocent smile, "Here you are."

He chuckled and shook his head, "I've never seen a horse so playful. What've you been teaching him, Mali?"

"Me?" I blinked, fighting the grin that was threatening to break out. "Why, I'd never do such a thing."

He sighed and tapped my cheek with a calloused finger. He was really the village blacksmith; he'd made the swords Dag and I would take to service.

"My girl, I think you've spent too much time with us."

_Us _meant he and Uncle Darian. I grinned.

"Undoubtedly," We both looked at Papa with matching innocent grins. "Can you spare my daughter, Brin? I need to have a word with her."

"Gotten yourself into trouble again, eh?" he tilted his head at me. "What've you done now?"

"Nothing! Well, nothing that I'm aware of," I frowned, looking at Papa. "Am I in trouble?"

He chuckled, "Not unless there's something you wish to tell me, girl."

I shook my head quickly. I'm not _that_ stupid.

Smiling, he gestured me to follow. I waved at Uncle Brin and Tama and trailed after Papa.

"What is it?"

He took a deep breath, and foreboding filled me, "What's wrong? Has something happened? Is Fallon and Caelan and Mama alright? What..?"

"Calm yourself, girl," Papa soothed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Everyone is fine. There is just news, is all."

"News?" I was really confused now, but my panic had faded.

Papa nodded, our matching eyes locked, "Your Mama is with child again."

I blinked. That…was not what I'd been expecting.

"Is that good?"

He laughed, "Yes," but then he grimaced. "Or no... Do you remember what Mama was like when she was with Fallon?"

"You spent a lot of nights at Uncle's, or in the stables."

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Ah. You do remember."

I laughed, "Mama and my Aunts enjoy recounting tales of their pregnancies a lot."

"I knew they were still trying to corrupt you," he muttered dryly. "You won't get involved with men while your away, will you, Mali?"

I shook my head, "Mama has already dealt with all that, Papa. She says all you have to do is train me."

"She's a wonderful woman, your mother."

"Papa, you don't have to start buttering her up yet," I said, amused. "She can't hear you."

"I was hoping you'd put in a good word for your beloved father."

I smirked and shook my head, "Think of it as payback for all the laps you've made us run."

Papa gave me a dirty look, "You have been spending too much time with your Uncles."

"Actually, they tell me I'm just like you."

"I'm going to kill the smartarse bastards."

oOo

Nine months later, we were waiting on the edges of the stream as Mama gave birth to our new sibling. Pregnancy was something I had vowed to avoid _ever_ doing. It was terrible.

"I'm never getting married," I muttered dryly. "And I'm _never_ having children. I'm castrating any man that ever comes near me."

"That's my girl," Papa laughed, pleased. "Maybe you won't need to watch her after all, Dagonet."

Dag, who I swear grew by the day, looked up from the set of nasty looking daggers he was sharpening. "No. I'll just have to keep her from killing them and getting whipped to death."

"What?" Caelan gasped from next to me, horror written all over her face.

"Dag, shut up," I glared at him. "I'm not going to be whipped, Caelan, calm down… I'd kill all the Romans before they could even get the whip."

"Malise!" Papa warned as my sister turned white and her mouth fell open.

"Couldn't help myself," I grinned sheepishly, leaning over to kiss Caelan's cheek apologetically. "I'll be good, I promise."

She glared at me, "You are a rogue, Mali. Completely wild!"

"Thank you."

She opened her mouth to retort but snapped it shut again when she noticed Aunt Ana coming towards us, a smile on her pretty face. Caelan leapt to her feet faster than anyone and we all stood and grouped together to hear the news.

"Well?" Papa asked impatiently.

"A boy, they're both fine," Aunt Ana said as Uncle Darian encircled her in his arms.

A boy, a brother, a _son_. My breath caught in my throat. But it couldn't be, the Romans were only months away now. I felt the eyes flick to me. Here was the son, and he was late. I had his fate now, the fate of hardship, death and darkness.

I smiled. I was ready for it, and I would spare my baby brother from it any day.

**A/N: Hope you guys don't mind the different style to the chapter, but I've gotta skip through her life somehow lol. I hope you enjoyed this one, I'm not quite sure of it so please let me know what you thought of it! **

**~Meg xx**


	6. Chapter 6: Time

**A/N: Hola amigos! (Yeah, I'm still teaching myself Spanish :P) **

**First and foremost, I want to thank you all a million times over for all the feedback chapter 5 got! It was wonderful and it completely made my week! Thank you! I really hope you enjoy this one as much as the last (:**

**Special thanks (and lots and lots of love! :D) to **_**Druid Archer, Dark Alana, brandibuckeye, xXxFantasyAmorexXx, Girl In the Library Corner, alien.94, Gwilwillith **_**and**_** princesspomegranate**_** for the reviews!**

**Thanks, appreciation, tea and biscuits to my wonderful BETA **_**princesspomegranate**_**, without whom, my stories wouldn't be half as good (: **

**Happy reading c: Please review at the end, I **_**love **_**hearing what you thought!**

**. : Chapter 6: Time : .**

Time. We could never seem to find a balance with it. There was either too much, or not enough.

I remember that day, the day my childhood and life as I knew it, ended. The day that it turned to ash and blew away.

Word had been sent across the land, _our_ land- no matter what a bunch of stuffed, pompous, _Roman officials_ said. They were coming again.

First they were a month off, then a week, then a day, then an hour. And then we could see them, riding over the distant hills, towards us. _For_ us.

The village was on edge, but they'd seen this too many times to be frantic. Anything of particular value was tucked away in nooks and crannies, safe from greedy eyes. The children were ushered into the tents, forbidden to leave them. Lest the Romans decide they were due anything else other than what they were already about to take.

Dag and I were seated in my family's tent, stuffing in yet another bowlful of Mama's stew. Ever since the first messenger had reached us, our mother's had started feeding us nearly double what we were used to. I'd mentioned, stupidly, to Papa that I feared they might make us fat. We ended up with five extra laps to run every evening and night.

Dag had tried to shoot me, _twice_. And I'd nearly let him.

Our siblings, Aunt Rali, Uncle Brin and our parents were crowded in around us, staring silently.

I was eleven summers now, Dag was sixteen. We had grown up and stopped being children long ago. We were accomplished warriors now, though we had yet to taste a real battle; were yet to have blood staining our bodies and our swords.

My brother had turned into a wall of muscle that I doubted even the most arrogant of Romans would ever go against. He was as sweet and as gentle as he always was though. He was a shy man of little words, but had more heart than anyone I knew.

I was still me, though I was a good deal more muscled than any other girl in the village. I'd shot up, but it was more a case of long legs. Thankfully I was yet to start getting my _womanly curves_, which Mama assured me I _would_ get eventually, much to my disappointment. Cleavage and hips weren't likely to be an asset where I was going.

"I can't eat anymore, Aunt Phyla," Dag groaned, putting his bowl down and then resting a huge hand over his stomach. He gave the stew left a longing look. He'd consumed four bowls already, it was little wonder he hadn't exploded. "I will miss it, though. I doubt there will be many cooks like you and Ma wherever we're being sent."

Mama scoffed quietly, "Of course there won't be. No one cooks as well as Sarmatians."

I set my half-empty bowl down too. It was my third. I'd had enough after two, but Mama had insisted.

"Malise, you finish that right now!"

I groaned. "Mama, please. I'm not Dag, I can't eat anymore. I'll be ill all the way."

"Well, with any luck, you'll be sick all over a Roman," Uncle Darian grinned, though his smile lacked its usual happiness. "It's too cold this time of year to bathe, so the bastard will have to suffer."

I snickered while my Mama and Aunts fixed him with smouldering looks.

"Keep your trap shut, Darian," Aunt Ana snapped.

She turned to me and her expression soothed, "Don't worry, Mali. You won't be sick."

"You'll be fine, girl," Aunt Rali assured me, one of her hands resting over her bulging stomach.

She was eight months pregnant with her first child. They'd been worried they couldn't have children, but it definitely appeared that they could.

"You are one of us."

I smiled slightly. I was trying very hard not to become emotional.

Papa snorted and said, "Yes, yes, she's one of you. Evil and female."

"_Secretly_ female," I put in, a grin plastering itself on my face.

"Secretly female, of course," Uncle Brin laughed.

He wrapped an arm around Aunt Rali's shoulders.

"Still, a Sarmatian woman is _not_ to be trifled with."

The women grinned, and Dag and I exchanged an amused glance as our Uncles and Fathers cringed. Little Fallon, now a lively six summers old, stumbled across to me and flopped down into my lap. I wrapped my arms around her middle and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I will miss you," she informed me seriously.

I smiled down at her sadly, "And I you. But I'll be back again, and you'll have grown..."

I would miss her and my baby brother, Regan's, childhoods. She might even be married by the time I returned.

"But you're not to worry; and you have Mama and Caelan and everyone else."

I looked up at my older sister. Her eyes were watering and while she tried to smile at me, it broke and a tear rolled down her cheek. Caelan had most certainly grown into a beauty. At fifteen summers, the young men had started taking an interest in her and I had little doubt that she would be married and have many little ones by the time my service was over.

"Oh, Mali," she breathed as she collapsed onto her knees next to me and crushed me in a hug.

She pulled back and brushed my hair out of my face with her fingers. She kissed my forehead and gave a sad laugh.

"My little sister, off to become a knight."

"It won't be so bad," I said, curling my hand around her smooth wrist, suddenly not wanting her to get up.

For all the differences between Caelan and I; I would miss her dearly. I would miss both my sisters, and my baby brother more than I could express.

"You promise me you'll return!" she ordered.

"_Promise_."

I nodded, feeling the tears sting my eyes.

"I promise."

"Swear it."

"Would you like it written in blood?" I asked her, dryly, and earned myself an equally dry look.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Girls," Papa warned; then he sighed.

"Imagine it, no daughters arguing… well, almost. One less anyway."

"_Faolan!"_ Mama snapped, reaching out to slap his arm.

"I would rather all my daughters here, at each others' throats, than one off to gods only know where and a quieter home!"

"Mama, please," I pleaded as silence fell over us.

Keal and the twins were sitting close to Dag as the adults sat in their chairs.

"I'm sorry, my girl," she said, cradling Regan close to her and running her fingers over his soft, fine hair. It was dark, like mine.

"I'm sorry."

I sighed.

"It's not your fault. It's no one's fault. Would you please stop it? I blame only Rome for this. This, which I _shall_ survive, so would you all _stop_ worrying? Dag and I will be home before you know it and you can stuff us full of stew to your heart's content."

"She's tough, she's ready and she's right," Uncle Darian said, giving me a confident smile.

"And Dagonet will always be with her to keep her out of trouble."

I snorted and grinned at my brother cheekily, "Yeah right, more like I'll be keeping _him_ out of trouble."

Dag raised his eyebrows at me doubtfully.

We laughed, and I savoured the sweet sound. Unknowing of when I'd hear it again. Fifteen years is a long time. Time enough for many things to go wrong.

"Time to get you both ready," Papa said softly, drawing to his feet and holding a hand out to me.

"Come, my daughter."

It was the first time he'd _called_ me daughter since… well, I couldn't remember the last time. Referred to me as his daughter, yes; called me it, not so often.

I shifted Fallon into Caelan's arms and took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. Dag was on his feet, and towering over me, in moments. I scowled at him.

"I should take you out at your knees. At least then I might not get a sore neck looking up at you."

He grinned at me and put a hand on my head to ruffle the hair. Like I was cute and amusing. I lashed out and caught him in the gut, enticing a satisfying grunt of pain. I strode, grinning triumphantly, into the bedroom followed by Mama as she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"You should be nicer to him, you know," she chastised me as she collected all my armour and heavier clothing.

I was quite capable of doing this myself, and I usually did, but Mama had insisted she get to help me this once.

I shrugged and smiled, "Dag knows I love him."

"Hitting him isn't a good way to convey that," she said dryly, accepting the lighter tunic I'd pulled off and helping me pull the thick, heavy one over my head.

The few belongings we were going to take were already packed and attached to our saddles. A few sets of clothes, a medical pouch each, weapons, a trinket or two. Not much. It all fit into two saddle bags. Oh, and food. Mama, Aunt Ana and Aunt Rali had insisted that we take food.

Uncle Darian had had to assure me that while the Romans were evil bastards, they wouldn't _actually_ starve us. Malnourished warriors were dead warriors; which meant unprotected Romans. "_The food _won't_ be good,_" he'd said. _"But you can live off it."_

Yeah, _that_ put my mind at ease. I think Dag was more distressed then I was. Boys and food, a mystery I'd never solve.

Mama slid the equally thick leather vest on and set about fastening the ties at the front until I could only just breathe. That was how I would have to dress. When I began to get breasts, they would need to be bound tightly and then several thick, tight layers of clothing added over the top so my chest would remain flat. I would never have the muscle mass of a man, so Mama had given me strict instructions to only ever have my clothing made out of the thickest material. To make it _look_ like I was broader.

It meant I was warmer too, and needed fewer layers when one tunic was equal to about three.

She grabbed my wrist guards and strapped them tightly to each of my wrists. Her fingers ran over my smaller hands, and lifted one to inspect it. After five years of training, they were calloused and had small scars here and there. Nicks and cuts from practice.

"I am very proud of you," she whispered, squeezing my hand before letting it go.

I let it drop back to my side.

"And I will miss you, my baby."

She caressed my cheek and smiled. Then she had me sit as she fetched my shin high leather boots and put them on me.

"You think I don't know," she said so softly I could barely hear her.

"They think they hide it from us. But we see it, feel it, in their eyes, in their touch, in their souls."

I didn't say anything; I just let her continue.

"I don't know what awaits you, Mali, but I know it is not good. When your Papa and Uncle returned home, their eyes were haunted, and their hearts were cold. They had become the men that Rome had wanted, they themselves were deadly weapons."

She looked up into my eyes solemnly.

"It pains me to think of you as haunted and cold, especially when you are so full of light and love. Please, _please_ don't let it become your fate, my darling."

I could only watch in a sort of daze as she worked. She got my belt and fastened it around my hips, fussed with my hair until she was happy with it. Somehow, a tear escaped my eye as she finished tying my heavy black cloak around my neck, and her hands fell away.

"Oh, my baby, hush now," Mama soothed, pulling me to her and engulfing me in a hug that only mothers knew how to give.

"I promise," I drew a shuddery breath.

"I'll miss you, Mama."

"I know, I know. I will think of you every day, and I will wait for you to come riding over the hills again."

Drops of rain hit the top of my head as my Mother, the solid backbone of our family, buried her face in my hair and cried.

Cried for the daughter she was giving away, and knew that she would never get back.

oOo

"Don't let them bully you," Uncle Darian told Dag and I as we stood at the entrance to the village.

His hand was clasped tightly on Dag's shoulder. His son was nearly as tall as he was. Tama snorted and nudged my shoulder impatiently. No doubt wondering why we were all standing around. He'd turned into an even more spirited, and troublesome, two year old.

"But don't break the rules or cause trouble," Papa added, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You'll get whipped for that."

Dag and I nodded. We were holding our horses' reins, ready and waiting for the group we could now clearly see coming towards us. From what I could make out, there were only ten or so Romans on horseback. And I couldn't tell how many boys there were, some were riding, others were walking.

We were the second to last village to be collected from before they headed back to the shore. That would be where we'd be put in giant boats and shipped to our posts, wherever they might be. It could be Rome, could be Britain. Who knew? Papa supposed Britain though, since that was where he and Uncle had served.

The whole village had come out to see us off, apart from the young children, but I could see them peeking out of tent flaps anyway. Keal had been confined to our tent, too. Papa and Uncle Darian weren't risking anything.

"We'll be fine," Dag assured our teachers in his deepening voice.

Papa snorted, but he didn't say what he was thinking with the women and children around. We knew anyway. _'Not likely, boy, not likely.'_ No one ever escaped servitude unscathed.

"Here," Uncle Brin held out our swords in their sheaths to us.

"They are fit for you now, I think."

I accepted mine with a grateful smile that I hoped conveyed everything that I wanted to say, but couldn't find the words or the time for. I grasped the hilt and pulled up the blade far enough to read the inscription freshly engraved into it.

'_Dark Warrior_' it read.

I looked at Dag to see him looking at his own blade. His read '_Courage, Strength, Honour_'.

It fitted him perfectly.

"They're nearly here," I said softly, drawing their attentions.

"I'd hurry up if you have any other advice you don't want them to hear."

Caelan stepped forward and hugged me, and I hugged her back. "Hurry home, little sister."

I gave her a sharp look for calling me sister now, but I nodded and kissed her cheek.

"I will."

I kissed Fallon's cheeks and ruffled her hair. Her cheeks were damp from where she'd been crying, though I don't think she understood what was really happening, only that I was going away.

Regan was in Mama's arms, blinking his dark eyes at me. I caressed his soft baby cheek with my knuckles, hoping that they weren't too rough for him. My baby brother reached up and snared my finger in his tiny hand, drawing it towards his mouth. I smiled at him.

"I'm sorry I won't be here," I told him, quietly.

"I hope I will get the chance to know you. But you won't remember me."

"He'll know all about you," Mama said softly.

"We will tell him all about the bravest sibling he has, and you will get to know him when you return."

I hugged her once more, mindful of Regan. I hoped she was right.

I looked up at Papa as he cleared his throat, and smiled, walking into his arms for the last time in who-knew how long. He hugged me tightly and even pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Be safe, Mali, be strong. Remember who you are; where you came from. Don't forget your land or your people, and return."

"I will, Papa," I whispered, drawing back.

One way or another, I would return home. I smiled at my family and looked to Dag.

"Ready?"

He grinned and nodded, stepping away from his sisters and mother and mounting his big black horse.

"When you are."

I scowled at him.

"Don't make it so we're waiting on me, you great lug."

I slid one foot into the stirrup and hauled myself smoothly up into the saddle, laying a hand against Tama's tense neck once I was settled.

"Mali, we're _always _waiting on you," he teased.

I opened my mouth to threaten him, but gasped in horror as I realised something instead.

"What is it?" Mama asked, worried.

"My name!" I hissed quietly, giving the approaching Romans a frightened glance, the only one I would ever allow myself to give. They were close enough now that I could make out their faces.

"I can't be called that!"

Papa and Uncle Darian both swore.

"She's right," Uncle agreed.

"Hurry, what's a boy's name?"

"Faolan?" Mama suggested.

"Named for the father?"

Papa shook his head and said, "No, only Romans do that."

I don't know if that was true or not, but I was too scared to think about it now. "Hurry!"

"Rogue."

We all turned to stare at Caelan dumbly.

"What?" Aunt Rali asked.

My big sister shrugged, "Well, she is. And wouldn't you be wary, if a Sarmatian knight was introduced to you as _Rogue_?"

The adults exchanged a glance. Uncle Darian shrugged.

"Sounds good to me."

I nodded, "Rogue it is. Dag, do most of the talking."

He rolled his eyes, "Obviously, you sound like a…"

"These are your sons?" a new, accented voice asked abruptly.

Heads all swung round to fix on the approaching group that was now apparently here. The Roman that had spoken was several paces in front of the others. The other young knights were being kept back far enough to ensure that none could slink off into the village.

Papa and Uncle stepped in front of the rest of our people and came level with us.

"Yes," Papa said icily. He laid a hand of Tama's strong neck and patted him.

The Roman captain gave him a cruel smile, "Good. Though there are only two after all these years."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Obviously.

Uncle clenched his fist until it was white and growled, "Two is two more then you deserve, Roman."

"Remember your place, Sarmatian dog!" The man, who looked ridiculous, dressed in the Roman uniform, snarled. Someone should tell him skirts that short aren't practical here. Or anywhere. "You two, come! Time to go."

Dag and I looked at our fathers, who both gave us slight, stiff nods. And so we tapped our horse's sides and walked forward, away from our loved ones and all that we'd known, into the grasp of war's slavery.

**A/N: And knighthood beings. How'd I do with the goodbyes? I didn't wanna make it to sappy, but it would've been pretty upsetting I'd imagine…you're the judge (: **

**I'm so glad you guys liked the layout of the last chapter, and there will be more like it, but there will be some like this one. Just events that I think deserve a whole chapter dedicated to them. Thoughts? **

**Another thing, if there's something (an event, a character etc) that you'd like to, or think should, happen-just send me a message or put it in a review (: There's a lot of time to cover between the current and the movie setting, so I'll probably be looking for ideas at some point!**

**Have a lovely day, please leave a comment!**

**Much love, **

**~Meg xx**


	7. Chapter 7: Day One

**A/N: 'Bout time, yeah I know. It's been a HUGE gap and I'm sorry, but yes, there was little I could do about it recently. Life gets in the way sometimes, as we all know. But it's done, and edited, and posted! :D Woohoo! **

**Thank you so much **_**Druid Archer, Dark Alana, Gwilwillith, alien.94, brandibuckeye, bored-now0809 **_**and **_**Lady of Sign**_** for reviewing! There is no better encouragement! (: **

**As always, thanks to my wonderful BETA princesspomegranate xx**

**Enjoy! Remember to leave a comment at the end! ^^**

**. : Chapter 7: Day One : . **

The weather matched the mood of the group exactly. It was miserable. The clouds were black with the threat of a storm and I could've sworn that the wind had ice in it.

It was quiet too, only the rustle of the grass and snorts and sighs of the horses could be heard. The Roman's spoke to each other in hushed voices that were instantly carried away on the wind. Not that I was particularly interested in what they were saying anyway.

No one had suspected me. Or if anyone had, they hadn't said anything. _Yet_.

But I was so tense I flinched at every human-made noise.

Dag rode beside me like a looming body guard, his keen eyes gauging all the other boys and soldiers. My pride wanted to tell him to stop it, that I was fine and could take care of myself. But my sense knew otherwise. My boy-voice wasn't something I had been able to perfect, so a lot of talking was out of the question, and probably always would be. I needed Dag now more than ever, whether my pride liked it or not.

There were about thirty other boys, all of varying age. Some looked older than Dag, some looked younger than me. I was glad now that Uncle and Papa had made Keal stay inside.

I hadn't expected them to look like this. Some of them would have been lucky to be nine summers! They looked scared and hollow. And not all had horses, some were doubling; the rest, walking.

I felt my temper building and clenched my reins until my knuckles were as white as snow. There shouldn't be children that young here!

"Calm down," Dag ordered me softly, he spoke without moving his lips.

Where the hell had he learned to do that? And, more importantly, why hadn't he taught me?

I glared at him and hissed under my breath, "Someone should gut them in their sleep."

My brother gave me a deadly look, "Behave, or you'll be killed before we leave our homeland."

I continued to fume, but held my tongue, knowing that causing trouble this early would not bode well at all. Damn Dag and his damn sense.

The other boys didn't seem to talk, though I guessed they did in hushed whispers. They watched Dag and I, but didn't approach. It was going to be long fifteen years if this was going to be normal.

oOo

We travelled until dusk, and then the Romans had us set up camp. I was half tempted to point out that the moon was full, so we would have been able to travel easily at night. But one look at the other boys, especially the ones on foot, had me holding my tongue again. They were exhausted, they needed rest.

"They probably didn't have the same upbringing as we did," Dag told me softly as we unsaddled Tama and Belenus. I hadn't said anything, but he'd still known.

"Well… why not?" I asked impatiently.

We were far enough away from the others that I doubted they'd pick up my voice as being feminine, but I kept it as low and rough as I could anyway.

Dag shrugged as he set his saddle down, "Maybe their fathers wished to spare them for as long as possible."

I levelled him with a steady gaze, "Our father's wished us to _live._"

"They also put us through hell," he joked lightly, then grew serious again. "But yes, they do."

I looked around at the camp, my eyes landing on a young dark headed boy- mayhap eight summers old. He was sitting on the ground next to a fire, his knees pulled up to his chest. Even from here I could see the tears in his eyes.

"They are hardly older then Keal," I murmured.

Two blonde headed boys, so obviously brothers, hovered close to the youngest one. The eldest was probably my age, a bit older maybe, the younger nine or ten.

"Uncle was right to make him hide."

"I know," Dag said, laying a hand on my shoulder. "None of them should be here. Neither should you."

I snorted, "You know I am meant for this. Even Caelan stopped denying it."

I paused, "We won't forget them, will we?"

He smiled and shook his head, "No, you won't forget, Mali."

"Rogue," I corrected, and grinned wolfishly.

"Suits me, doesn't it?"

"I'm ashamed to say that yes, it does," he attempted to ruffle my hair, but I leapt back, scowling at him. "But you will always be little warrior to me."

I poked my tongue out at him, "I'm supposed to be scary, remember?"

"You won't have to work hard at that. Remun still has nightmares about you beating him up," Dag shook his head. "I can't believe you almost broke his arm."

"Well, he shouldn't have been talking about Caelan like that, should he? Stupid git."

"I wonder if anyone will be _game _to marry your sisters."

I snorted again, "No more game than they will be to marry _yours_. You look like you could snap necks, and you haven't finished growing yet!"

Pink tinged his cheeks and I smirked. Dag really wasn't meant to be a man of war. He might've had the stature of three men, but it didn't match his personality. Perhaps it was like finding a warrior in a girl.

"Don't be bashful," I whispered as we made our way towards the growing fires.

I didn't know what to do, I felt awkward and hyper aware, so I merely let my brother lead the way. Dag ignored me and approached the fire with the young fair and dark headed boys and their older, blonde guardian.

I steeled myself and took a breath. Dag, it seemed, was going to start making friends already. _Brilliant_. I could've gone off on my own, but all the other boys were in small groups close together, and I didn't want to look anymore out of place than I probably already did.

Then again…I looked around at all the other faces. I probably didn't look out of place at all.

"Hello," Dag greeted the three, but I only half paid attention. My eyes had found a boy I'd missed before.

I couldn't quite tell how old he was, with his dark hair hanging across his face- like mine did. He wasn't alone, but he wasn't with anyone either. He was hanging close to two others. One was huge, taller and broader than even Dag, and probably as old or older. The other was a few years younger, with bright hazel eyes and short, shaggy dark brown hair.

The first boy, with the hair hiding his face, was scanning the rest of the group. Watchful; _seeing_ things that the rest of us missed.

I ducked my head before his eyes could get to us. I would have to be wary of him. Papa had warned me about the boys that would become the scouts. Scouts saw things nobody else did.

"I'm Gawain," the oldest blonde said, his blue eyes assessing Dag and myself carefully.

He had positioned himself slightly in front of the other two, protective without being overbearing.

"This is my little brother Gareth, and our cousin, Galahad."

I raised an eyebrow. Three G's, and all related. Parents could be amusing things.

"How old are you?" Dag inquired.

He smiled reassuringly at the frightened youngsters, and I knew then that he was going to brother as many of the younger boys as he could. He was such a softy.

He'd probably end up with all the dogs in the post to.

I rolled my eyes.

Gawain scowled, but not at us, "I'm thirteen. They're nine and seven."

"Seven?" I tilted my head at Galahad.

He was undoubtedly the youngest of us all. _Too_ young. My eyes flicked to the Roman's fire, and narrowed.

The look Gawain gave me was calculating, but he nodded curtly, "He's the only boy out of six. They're not supposed to take any younger than ten, Pa said. He was spittin'. You?"

"Sixteen," Dag said simply, then with one hand gestured to me. "Eleven. Where are you from?"

"South. We're Alans. Been travelling for… two weeks now, I think."

"It should only be another two before we reach the coast," Dag said. "Where did your fathers serve?"

"Britain, yours?"

"The same."

What is it with boys and short answers? Or is it that women just talk too much? Men seemed to be able to exchange ten words and have completed a whole conversation.

I just wouldn't talk at all. That would be easier.

"We'll probably serve together, then," Gawain said, he looked at me again. "Did you say your name was Rogue?"

I avoided pointing out that _I_ didn't say so, but nodded anyway.

Dag swooped in to save me and clapped a hand on my shoulder, "Trust me, it suits him."

The three boys stared at me, young Galahad now looking a bit more frightened then before.

"Really?" Gareth piped up, curiously. "Why?"

I chewed on my lip, unsure. Obviously, not talking for the next fifteen plus years wasn't going to be an option, so, I'd have to find some way of appeasing them and not giving myself away.

"Piss him off, and you'll find out," Dag chuckled.

I think he was relieved to be talking about something he was familiar with again.

If it was at all possible, Galahad got paler.

I glared at my brother, and said in as rough a voice as possible. "Stop helping."

oOo

The night was cold, but luckily there wasn't much wind, otherwise I doubted we'd have been spaced apart so much.

Dag and I had stuck with the trio, Dag having earned Gawain's trust when he had helped with sores on young Galahad's feet. And I just seemed to have been accepted.

"That's Tristan," Gawain said to me when he caught me eyeing the wild looking boy whilst he wasn't looking. "He's Aorsi. Scary bastard."

I nearly groaned. The Aorsi were said to be the best scouts, something to do with living in the sparse forests of the west that backed onto the mountains, and being taught to track their food through the wilderness since birth.

Papa said their scout had been Aorsi, and I was betting now that Tristan was the old scout's son, and would've been trained by his father.

"He doesn't talk to anyone but Kay and Agravaine, the two with him, and his horse. He glares at the Romans and does most of the hunting," Gawain continued, raising an eyebrow at me. "Sounding like you."

I looked away from Tristan's fire and back to ours, shrugging. Dag was entertaining Gareth and Galahad, telling them some ridiculous story that Uncle had once told us.

"Why _don't _you talk?" Gawain pushed.

He was sitting beside me, keeping me a little ways from his young charges.

"Easier." I murmured, the lower I spoke, the better it worked I'd found. "I won't hurt them, you know."

The blonde boy's cheeks coloured a bit, but he coughed to cover it up, "I'm all they've got, now."

_They're all _I've_ got._ Was the unspoken additive. He didn't have to say it, I knew the feeling.

I shook my head, and gestured across to the fire to Dag. He was well into the story now, waving his arms around to emphasise whatever part he was up to. He looked a lot like Uncle Darian then, though I know he will never be as playful.

"Got Dag."

"He's a healer too?" Gawain enquired, watching them too, like an attentive parent instead of a brother.

It seemed odd to look at the boys now, and think that soon we will be all each other has. It won't be one or two, it'll be all of us. Yet, I didn't know any of their names or what they were like.

"Yes. A good one. Been training since he was little."

He nodded, "You?"

"Only battle," I muttered, flicking the end of a stick into the centre of the fire. "Since I was six. You been trained?"

"Got three years. Gareth and Galahad know a bit, but not much. Not enough to survive," he added it bitterly. "Pa says the Roman's train us, but they do a shit job."

I nodded. That didn't surprise me.

"What about the rest of them?"

Gawain shrugged, looking around at the other fires. "Some of them, I think. Don't know how much or in what. We're keeping pretty much to ourselves at the moment."

I nodded, suddenly more unsure of our futures then I had been before.

oOo

We were riding again not long after dawn. I learnt from Gawain that we had to be ready to leave before the Romans; and that we had to wait for them to decide they were ready.

I wasn't in a good mood, but kept it under wraps. Dag's reoccurring glances reminding me to bite my tongue.

Our new friends, as it seemed they were to be, rode with us. Or us with them. I didn't know, and I was in too sour a mood to give a damn which it was. Gareth rode behind Dag, as Galahad had promptly refused to be parted from his older cousin. It only made me crankier every time I looked at the frightened little boy.

I wondered vaguely if this was the sort of feeling I would get in battle. My fingers itching to curl around the smooth hilt of my sword, body tense for the first attack… No, that was wrong. I shouldn't be _tense_, I should be alert but relaxed. The lessons flooded to me all at once and my mood lightened as I gave myself something other to do then stew silently.

The movements, like steps to a dance, had to flow naturally, like water in a stream. The weapon was not a separate object, but a part of myself. The opponent, never to be underestimated, for appearances were deceiving. As I should know all too well.

"You look better," Dag commented to me. "I thought you were going to slit someone's throat."

I glared at him through dark locks as the younger two hid their faces, "The only throats I'll be slitting are Romans' and yours, if you don't shut up."

He looked confused and Gawain actually grinned, though he was quick to correct it. "What'd I do?"

I inclined my head to the boys, "You're scaring them. They think I'm going to get them."

Dag looked over his shoulder at Gareth and made an 'o' shape with his mouth. But any reply he might've had was cut off by a new voice.

"I wouldn't be talking about slitting _any _throats if I was you."

The five of us stared at the boy who had ridden up to come level with me, apparently without me noticing. He was huge, at least another hands width broader across the shoulders then Dag. It was difficult to tell how much taller he was, given that he was sitting on a big bay stallion, but I suspected him to be taller than my brother also. With brown hair cut close to his head and bright intelligent green eyes, I remembered Gawain had called him Kay.

I raised an eyebrow, trying not to feel intimidated by this towering wall that dwarfed us all, and stayed quiet. You could probably loose little Galahad in his shadow…

I looked at Dag instead. Arching both eyebrows in a clear message that I wasn't going to talk to this Goliath, and he was _his_ problem.

I thought about pulling Tama in between Dag and Gawain for extra protection, but decided against appearing like a coward. But, the guy was _huge_… if he even sat on me, I'd be finding out if we really did come back as horses a whole lot sooner.

Dag rolled his eyes at me and looked back at the looming giant, who hadn't left, and explained, "No one's going to be slitting anything. Rogue's just in a pissy mood."

Kay raised a lone eyebrow, "Rogue?"

I nearly groaned, realising this was going to be the reaction I got. I nodded anyway, even raised a hand in a half-hearted greeting.

Internally I berated myself for behaving like an idiot. Rogue wasn't supposed to be scared of anyone, even if anyone was six plus feet tall. Dag was tall, and he was about as scary as Galahad.

"Interesting name," Kay commented offhandedly. "I'm Kay."

I nodded again, tempted to tell him I already knew who he was, courtesy of the blonde chatterbox.

"Dagonet," Dag supplied. "How long have you been here?"

Oh, gods, not this conversation again.

"Nearing three weeks. My friend and I are Arosi. I'd advise you not to piss off the Romans just yet," he shot me a grin.

"Leave it until we reach our posts. It's harder for them to tell who did it then."

Dag chuckled, "Don't encourage him. I'm supposed to be making sure he lives through his service."

I scowled at him, "I'm not going to get myself killed."

"Just flogged," he said, looking at me imploringly.

I continued to scowl, "I'll shoot you again."

"Shoot him?" Gawain echoed disbelievingly. "I thought you were cousins!"

"We are," Dag muttered. "It was an accident, the first time."

"Hey! There's only _been_ a first time, _so far_. And who was trying to shoot me a couple of weeks ago?" I bit my tongue, smacking myself mentally for talking so much.

Dag just grinned in triumph, "Glad you've stopped sulking."

"I don't sulk," I mumbled, contemplating if I could kick him without accidentally kicking Gareth to.

"Stop scheming."

I gave him an innocent look, "Don't know what you're talking about."

_Maybe if I grabbed the kid and then pushed him off his horse…_

He snorted, and then said to the others, "When he gets that look, it usually means trouble for someone."

"Yeah, _you_," I grinned cheekily. "Count your lucky stars Gareth is riding with you and I don't like hurting anyone under ten."

"I imagined you nearly biting my finger off when I was nine then did I?" he asked dryly, and the others snickered.

"I was four. What morals do four year olds have? Besides, taught you not to tease me, didn't it?"

Kay gave a deep, rumbling laugh, "You're going to be trouble, aren't you? You and Bors will probably get along well."

I blinked, "Who?"

oOo

As it turned out, Bors and I would _not _get along well.

He turned out to be a burly fifteen year old, and, I'm deeply ashamed to say, a Roxolani. He had a vicious temper, a lewd sense of humour, and a pain in the arse personality in general. He could fight apparently. And, as I suspected, was only one of the few of us who could. He specialised mainly in hand-to-hand, throwing his weight around and talking his opponent to death.

At the same time he managed to strike both the overwhelming urge to impale him on something sharp, and the need to run very quickly in the opposite direction.

"You can't be serious!" I hissed in a low tone to Dag and Gawain as the pair literally dragged me towards the fire.

There was only one tonight, well, only one of _ours_. Apparently it was high time we all got to know each other in the older boys' opinions.

Dag had tried to get me to come willingly, and I gotten so far, but then I'd observed the carry on for a moment and turned tail. So, my traitorous brother had gone and fetched Gawain, and now they were both going to be killed in their sleep.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Calm down, you have to get to know them some time. You can't avoid them for the next fifteen years," Gawain tried to reason, then added in a teasing voice. "We won't let them eat you."

I gave him a withering glare which he boldly took and even ignored.

"Everything will be fine," Dag promised me.

The pair set me back on my feet but kept a hold of each of my arms once we came into the light. I'd run back to the horses and tried hiding. Obviously, they have better night vision then I'd given them credit for. They led me to their places in the circle and sat me down between them. Least I try and escape again.

How was I supposed to keep my secret if I had to be with them all the time!

"Caught 'im, eh?" the base of my panic, Bors, asked in a tone I was afraid was normal.

Like he was afraid the Gods wouldn't hear him.

"He only went to the horses," Dag assured them, silently saying that I _wasn't_, and _would_ _never_, desert.

There were exactly thirty-six boys, not including me, and we still had one village to go before we were taken to the coast, where we would be split up and boated to either Rome or Britain, if Gawain- our never ending source of information- was to be believed.

"Not the social type, eh?" another asked in a much quieter tone than Bors.

I wasn't sure what his name was. Gawain and Kay had rattled off a few more names, but had neglected to point out which name belonged to which boy.

The one who spoke was older than me, but I wasn't sure if he would have been as old as Dag. He had long dark brown hair, pulled back in a tie, and matching dark brown eyes.

"You ain't got no enemies here, kid," he assured me with a friendly smile.

I snuck a glance at the watchful one, Tristan, where he sat sharpening a knife. Maybe not _enemies_, so much as _threats_.

Dag clapped me on the shoulder reassuringly. I knew what he was saying, and I knew it made sense. We had to make friends with these boys. I had to trust them with my life. There was no room for squabbles. We were together now, for the next however many years, and there wasn't a thing we could do about it.

Couldn't blame me for being cautious though. I had so much more to lose then they did.

**A/N: Well, there we go. This one did take me a while to write. Found it a bit tricky actually. The next is proving to be the same-when I'm finding the time to give it, which is proving even harder. **

**I will be away for four days again, from tomorrow night. More work. Which is good, 'cause I need the money (don't we all? Lol) But it does prove inconvenient as it eats up so much of my time. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a comment before you go! I love hearing what you thought! **

**Lots 'a love,**

**~Meg xx**


	8. Chapter 8: Children No Longer

**A/N: Bit more timely with the update? Writer's Block might finally be going to leave me alone! Touch wood…**

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**Hope you enjoy this chapter…**

**. : Chapter 8 : Children No Longer : .**

We rode on for several more relatively uneventful days. The weather was semi-kind to us, but the travelling could be seen obviously taking its toll. I was reminded again that we were but children, no matter what the Romans were sending us to face.

Things were very calm within our group now, or as calm as things could be with Bors in the vicinity. He and a young boy called Percival, who was somewhere around my age, with shaggy light brown hair and mischievous blue eyes that almost seemed to laugh on their own, argued _constantly. _Or rather, Percival harassed the daylights out of Bors, and the stupid git took the bait every time.

I wasn't very fond of Bors. I pointed out to Dag that he'd probably end up giving our position away one day, and getting us all killed. And if _they_ didn't hear him- a feat they'd have to be _deaf_ to achieve- they'd smell him. Mention bathing and you'd just about fall off your horse in shock at how fast Bors could actually move.

Dag said I was being ridiculous, of course.

We'd become fairly attached to Gawain and his two, small shadows. Gareth had even stopped being scared of me. Little Galahad was still a bit timid, but he was like that with everyone. He was very shy, but if you stirred him up, as Bors found out, he had quite the temper.

I'd learnt the names of most of the others and we seemed to divide among ourselves the groups we would be cast in for our posts. As Kay had predicted, the Romans had chosen to keep to the pattern. We were going off to where our fathers' had served.

Kay was very level headed, like Dag, and between the two of them they seemed to be able to keep all thirty-six of us under control. _Almost_.

There was Lamorak, one of the cheekiest boys I had _ever _come across. He trod on very thin ice most of the time, but seemed to get a kick out of it. I _suppose_ he would be what Caelan would call 'handsome', with short, messy dark hair and matching dark eyes. I just thought he was probably a bit suicidal.

Again, Dag reminded me to keep my opinions to myself.

The one who had reassured me that night at the fire was called Lionel. He was quite quiet, but not in a scary, threatening way like Tristan was. At about fifteen summers, he got along with everyone and was very…supportive, I suppose would be what you could call it. He always smiled and had something to say that made everyone brighter.

Another, Bedivere, was around Gawain's age at my guess. He had black hair, bright green eyes, a mouth that never closed, and an air of trouble. He and Percival seemed to get along rather well and I knew he was half the brains behind all the carry-on with Bors. I hadn't been the only one to notice that he was clever; _very_ clever.

Agravaine, the other of Kay's life-long friends, was stocky and wore a permanent scowl. He was tall, dark brown hair and light, hazel eyes. Kay said his mood was just his way of coping, and that he was actually very nice. All I know is that I wouldn't want to be hit by him, that's for sure.

Geraint was another of the too-young's. He was the same age as Gareth; and if he wasn't stuck to Lionel's side then he was cautiously venturing over to us to sit beside Gareth and Galahad. He had the strangest grey-shaded eyes, like clouds on a bleak day. Being the only one taken from his village, Geraint had known no one in the beginning. He was shy, but once you got him smiling, he was really very talkative.

Erec was the only other blonde apart from the brothers. He was mayhap fourteen summers and seemed lively most of the time. All I really knew about him was that he had a fear of spiders, and, when faced with one, screamed like a girl.

_Sissy_.

Dag reprimanded me for that, too.

There were others who I knew by name but not well enough to judge their personality. There was Mouse- whose real name no one seemed to know-, Yvain, Mordred, Gaheris, Ector and Cador. More too, but I hadn't really had anything to do with them yet.

We were fast approaching the last village. I could see the smoke rising up from the fires, and the few scattered huts. We were close enough now that I could make out the shapes of each person and animal.

My heart squeezed at being so close to my people again, even though I did not know these. There were fathers there, mothers. Like mine, dreading _this_ moment when they would have to sacrifice their sons to an uncertain future.

The Roman captain had us wait further back as he went forth to collect the sons, of which there was only one, it seemed.

He might've been a year or so older than me, with a head of unruly dark curls and surprisingly calm hazel-brown eyes.

A man, who I guessed was his father, led him out on a stocky black stallion. A horse bred for war.

Tama let out a long sigh, and I stroked his neck soothingly, murmuring under my breath, "Hush, my boy."

I heard the old knight tell his son the story of the knights re-born as great horses, and felt a pang as I remembered Uncle telling us that story. I looked across at Dag to see him staring at his reins. He remembered too.

"Lancelot! Lancelot!" a little girl cried, running out of one of the huts up to the boy.

She stretched up and handed him something, then fell against the side of the man.

_A sister_, I thought, and instantly remembered my own. I missed them already.

"Do not fear," the boy, Lancelot, said steadily. "I will return."

_You hope_, I added in thought, and glanced around at the sullen faces. _As do we all. But we won't _all_ be seeing our little sister's again._

His father said nothing, but nodded slightly and glanced at his crying wife as their son rode over to us.

"How long shall we be gone?" he asked.

His voice held an amount of strength that I hadn't expected. Even Kay and Dag did not speak so firmly to the Romans.

"Fifteen years," answered the Captain.

Then he added snidely, "Not including the months it will take to get to your post."

I glared at the back of his silly-looking helmet. Months was plenty of time for these pompous Roman pansies to get lost in the mountains...

"Behave," Dag whispered to me.

I sniffed at him, "I didn' do anything."

"You were thinking it."

"…Was not."

"Liar."

"Never said I wasn't."

"Would you pair be quiet?" Kay asked, amused.

I stuck my tongue out at him, feeling childish. Dag rolled his eyes at me. The Captain wheeled his horse around with a final glare and set off. Just as we were about to follow, the old knight shouted.

"Lancelot!"

His son looked back over his shoulder.

"_RUS!"_

I remembered this being the Sarmatian's war cry, though Papa and Uncle had never had us shouting it.

The rest of his village joined in, and then so did we.

It was a message. _Remember who you are_. We are Sarmatian.

oOo

Lancelot kept mostly to himself. He didn't try to insert himself into any of our splintered little groups and instead rode quietly at the back, several strides behind the last of us.

So Dag, being the mother hen that he was, decided that this needed to change immediately.

"What if he'd rather be alone?" I pointed out quietly at the fire a night later.

My brother was preparing himself to go and speak to the younger boy, who was currently wrapped up in his cloak and saddle cloth under a tree next to his horse.

Dag looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Loneliness is a terrible thing, Little Warrior. If we reach out to him now, he will turn to us in his own time."

"You're more and more like your mother every day," I grumbled, kicking a stone into the fire. "Soon I'll be calling you _Auntie. _And _don't _call me that!"

He just grinned and strolled over to Lancelot.

I watched as he crouched down in front of the boy and began talking. I was too far away to hear what was said, but in the end, Dag managed to coax a smile and slight nod from him. When he sat back down next to me, he looked quite pleased with himself.

"How did it go, then?" Gawain demanded. He was suspicious of Lancelot, just as he had been suspicious of us. "What'd he say?"

"He thanked me for the offer to join us but said he just wanted to be by himself for a while," Dag replied. "See? I told you."

I grunted, "Dunno why you're gloating, he's not here. And _I _told _you _he would've wanted to be alone."

"Yes, yes," he brushed my soft comments off without taking any notice of them. "He'll just need a bit of time to adjust, but he knows now that he will be welcomed when he is ready."

Gawain and I grumbled to ourselves. We weren't savage yet, it wasn't like he'd get eaten if he approached us without a formal invitation. Gawain'd probably glare at him a bit and I'd probably do my best to avoid him, but that was expected.

"Time," Dag said again, poking the pair of rabbits Tristan had dropped at my feet earlier.

I had panicked for a while that this meant he _knew_, but then I'd watched him do the same thing to Bedivere and Erec, so had relaxed and taken the kills to Dag. It wasn't like _I _was going to cook the things.

"Didn' you find it odd that Lancelot took it so well?" Gawain said not long later around a mouthful of slightly-pink meat. "He didn't even look angry when he spoke to the Captain."

"Maybe it's a good thing," Dag replied, using a dagger to carve up the rest of the meat and handing it out to the little ones. "Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll be a sensible one instead of hot-head like the rest of you."

I threw a bone at him, "I am not hot-headed!"

He tossed the bone into the fire, eyes alight with amusement, "Of course you're not."

oOo

Dag's hopes of having everyone all together were fulfilled two days later. And, of course, he sided up to us.

"Lancelot," my brother greeted him with a reassuring smile. "That's Gawain, his brother Gareth, their cousin Galahad, and this is my cousin, Rogue."

Lancelot raised his eyebrows at me, but, to my surprise, said nothing about my name. He nodded to us.

"Do you know how long until we reach the shore?" Lancelot asked.

His voice held the same, steady calmness as the last time I'd heard it.

"Just over a week, I think," Gawain replied, he was gauging the boy carefully, his tone a bit shorter then it normally was. "Kay or Tristan could probably tell you exactly."

At Lancelot's blank look, Dag pointed out both older boys.

"Kay is the oldest of us, and speaks to the Romans the most. Tristan's a scout."

The boy nodded his understanding.

"How long have you been here?"

I rolled my eyes skywards. _Not this again. Thank the gods he is the last. _

As they prattled on with the conversation only I seemed to tire of, I turned my attention to our surroundings. We were travelling at an easy pace through sparse woods. We could've gone at twice the speed, but only one of our Roman escorts/guards had completed this venture before. There obviously can't _be_ any trees in Rome, if its soldiers were in danger of getting disoriented in them, and thus getting lost.

Unfortunately, they'd made Tristan and Kay lead us. So there would be very little delay.

It was peaceful, even with the soft voices of the boys, steps and snorts of the horses. Which is why I was so surprised when a shout broke the apparent calm.

"Ambush!"

I whipped my head towards the voice's owner, Tristan, just in time to see the men drop from the trees.

My heart froze. We were being attack already? Who were these men? Not… not Sarmatians?

"Rogue!" Dag's deep, vibrating voice snapped me from my panic. "Move!"

_Right. Sitting still would be a bad idea, Mali._ I told myself even as I swung down from my saddle, wrapped my small hand around the hilt of my most precious possession, and drew the blade from its sheath.

"Get the youngest in the centre!" Kay roared over the noise.

The older of us had also drawn weapons, some I had not even noticed before, and were fighting back at different levels.

My breath caught in my throat as a raider's blade caught Agravaine's arm, and blood shot upwards to spray across the wielder. The boy let out a choked cry of pain and pressed his free hand over the wound.

The raider raised his blade again- then dropped it, and slumped to his knees as blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

Tristan appeared behind the dead man. He yanked out his bloody blade, nodded to Agravaine and then jumped back into the chaos.

I stared. _Dead_. He'd just…

The tell-tale whistle of steal cutting through air registered in my brain just in time. I whipped around and raised my sword to block the blow aimed to lop off my head.

The man on the end of the other blade blinked his murky brown eyes in surprise. It only lasted a second though, because then he gave me a grin that sent a shiver down my spine, and swung again.

I parried each of his blows, trying desperately to figure out how to get the upper hand. My mind was blank of all my years of teachings. I don't even know how I knew how to move like I was… It just _happened_. My body did the work my brain could not.

_I know what to do,_ I realised with a jolt. And just like that, the haze that had been hanging over me lifted. I became acutely aware of everything, just like Papa had taught me.

"_See everything, even what cannot be seen._"

His words rang clear in my ears, like he was standing next to me.

"_What can you see, daughter?_"

The raider was strong, but uncoordinated. He repeated blows even after I had blocked them instead of trying another place. He gripped his sword with both hands.

"_It is unethical to hold a sword with both hands. It limits your movement, see? Makes it look awkward and clumsy. Swordsmanship is light and graceful._"

It was either too heavy or he had sustained an injury to his normal sword arm. He would not fight like that by instinct, I felt sure. No one would. And he put most of his weight on his left leg, signalling a weakness in the right…

I changed from defence to offence, using my slighter size and speed to my advantage and moving between his blows to change our roles. He could not continue to attack me without having his guts spilled on his boots.

I attacked the right side with short, sharp, repeated blows. I could not match his force, but I could be quicker.

I moved on the tips of my toes, like dancing. I ducked when he swung his sword in a wide horizontal arch and, with the opening he had given me, brought my blade upwards.

His howls of pain echoed in my ears as warm, sticky liquid splattered over my face, my clothes, and ran down the length of the blade to cover my hands.

"_Go for the joints. It takes effort to slice though bone, and it wears your blade down. The easiest way to sever a limb is to take it from the joint."_

His right arm, and sword, lay on the ground at our feet while blood poured out of where the limb had once been attached. He had collapsed to his knees, babbling words I could not even understand.

"_Never be cruel, Mali. Never leave a man alive if he will suffer."_

With a swift movement, I plunged my sword with all my strength into his chest; his heart, until the point broke the skin on the other side. And I waited two of my heartbeats, before pulling it back out.

I had to jump backwards as his eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped forwards simply to avoid being squashed.

Everything faded into the background for a moment. It all drifted away as I stared, not moving, not breathing, at the lifeless body before me.

I had done this. _I had killed._

Everything seemed to move much slower as I turned my head to survey my surroundings. The Romans were fighting- shockingly enough. The older boys, too. The younger ones had been herded into the centre; they were huddled together, watching with giant, rounded eyes.

And then… I narrowed my eyes at that which was out of place with the scene. A raider was swinging his sword as little Galahad, impressively, managed to duck and roll away from each deadly blow… Until he tripped over an exposed tree root…

I took off running, dodging around other fighters as the tall, slender raider, with his back to me, raised his gleaming blade. Without thinking, I dropped to my knees and slid between the man and terrified child, raising my sword horizontally and resting the flat of the blade in one palm as I held tight to the hilt with the other, and blocked the blow.

The downwards force sent painful jars through my arms and seemed to vibrate all the way to my toes.

Shock was written clean across the raiders face, and before he could think, I whipped my blade across the front of his legs, making large gashes that immediately flowed red.

When his grip loosed on his weapon as his focus switched to the pain, I knocked it from his grasp completely. Rising to my feet, I swung my blade along his shoulders. His head landed with a _thump_ on the damp, blood-stained earth, rolled twice, and stopped.

I just stood still again. The truth tried to reach me, but I wasn't quite accepting it. I didn't think it would be like… _this_.

My breaths were heavy. My lungs ached for more air, but I couldn't seem to get enough… I don't know how much time passed, but the next thing I became truly aware of was the small, thin arms wrapping themselves around my waist.

Panic flooded my brain for a moment, but when I twisted around to see little Galahad staring up at me, tears streaking down his grubby face, I relaxed.

"T-thank y-you," he babbled, then buried his head in my stomach.

I blinked and looked around. Fighting continued, but the raiders were outnumbered now, and more of the boys had gone to the group in the centre.

"Come, Galahad. Back to the others," I said gently, putting my left hand on his arm to try and move him.

I couldn't walk with him hanging onto me like this. He looked up at me with big, watery eyes, lip wobbling in the threat of more tears.

"You s-stay with m-me?"

The request had shocked me, as had the way that he was looking at me like he was afraid I'd say no…

"Yes. I'll stay with you; come on."

He let go of my waist and instead latched hold of my left arm, sniffling.

It was a bit difficult to walk with him so close, but I said nothing. He was so young and so scared. It wasn't fair. I took him as far around lifeless raider bodies and continuing fights as I could, bringing him back to the relative safety of the others.

_Strength in numbers_, I thought as I nodded to Lionel, Ector and Cador, who were circling the group of youngsters like hawks. _Already we work as a team…_

Papa and Uncle had said that that was important…

"You alright?" Lionel asked me as Gareth pounced on his little cousin and attempted to drag him into the middle, berating him all the while.

I nodded and answered, "Yes. Anyone else hurt?"

Agravaine was sitting on the ground, a blood-stained cloth pressed to his upper arm.

"He's the worst. Think Dagonet will be able to tend to him?"

I nodded again. Dag probably wouldn't let the boy out of his sight. Speaking of which…

"Where _is_ Dag?"

Lionel pointed across the clearing to where the last of the raiders had either been slain or had run. Dag was hauling Bors up off the ground. Both appeared to be fine.

"You fight well," Cador said to me.

He was tall and lean, with brown eyes and short, curly brown hair.

"I watched you kill those two bastards. You did good."

I nodded, clenching my fists in hopes it'd hide how much my hands were shaking. I hadn't been watching them. I had no idea who fought well.

"Another quiet one, eh?" he said, grinning a little. He was maybe fifteen. "That's alright, better then bein' like Bors. I was afraid after we met him that all Roxolani were like that."

I scrunched up my nose, "Definitely not."

He chuckled, and then became serious as he asked, "Who taught you to fight like that?"

"My Papa."

"_Rogue!_"

Anything Cador might've had to say was swallowed when Dag swooped in on us and started lifting my arms and inspecting me for injury.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded.

"Why are you so covered in blood then?"

I shrugged.

"S'not mine. I'm fine, brother. Are you?"

He watched me for a long moment before nodding slowly.

"Aye, I'm fine."

I smiled at him and clasped his forearm.

"Good… good. I think Agravaine needs your help, then."

He looked confused for a moment, but when his eyes landed on poor Agravaine, he was already off to fetch his healer's kit, muttering to himself about salves and herbs.

I smiled as I watched him go, before looking around at the rest of the boys as they slowly came back together. Re-grouping and trying to relax. Wiping blood off of faces and weapons.

I looked down at the bright red glistening on my own blade. It was pretty when it caught the sun, like a precious stone. But it was not a precious stone; and I couldn't get the image of those pain-filled brown eyes out of my head...

I wiped the blood off on the grass and whistled for Tama. He came trotting over to me and I kissed and stroked his nose before sliding my sword back into its sheath, pausing for a moment to read the words so carefully engraved in it.

_Dark Warrior_.

"_It pains me to think of you as haunted and cold, especially when you are so full of light and love. Please, _please_ don't let that become your fate, my darling."_

It was my Mama's fearful words that I heard then. Looking down at my stained, shaking hands, I clenched them as tears stung the corners of my eyes.

I am strong. I _must_ be strong!

But we were children, no longer.

**A/N: Longer chapter…the ending flowed well once I got it going-pity it couldn't all be like that :P Hope you enjoyed it anyway. **

**Please don't forget to review!**

**~Meg xx **


	9. Chapter 9: Facing the Darkness

**A/N: I know, about bloody time! _So_ sorry guys-writer's block is drowning me at the moment! And I've got _so_ much on…**

**Thank you so much _Druid__Archer,__ brandibuckeye,__ Ghost__ of__ the __old__ age,__ BooBoo33,__ Griffinesque,__ Gwilwillith,__ bored-now0809,__ Draggonfly Maiden, __tselea_ and_ alien.94_ for the reviews! Much love ^^**

**And as always, thanks to _princesspomegranate_for BETA-ing :)  
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**Enjoy! **

* * *

><p><strong>. : Chapter 9 : Facing The Darkness : .<strong>

"Rogue?"

I looked up from staring, unblinkingly, at my reins, and blinked at my brother.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his eyes studying me worriedly.

I nodded slowly, having to think for a moment how to form words.

"…Yes."

The arms already wrapped tightly around my waist tightened a little more. Galahad had insisted- more like demanded- that he ride with me. And not even Gawain could make him change his mind.

I'd never seen anyone _climb_ up a horse's leg to seat themselves in a saddle before, but I have now. He was coming with me apparently. Through rain, snow, hail or shine.

"You look a little pale…" Dag began, but changed his mind and trailed off.

"Never mind. You did well."

"I did?" I asked flatly.

It didn't feel like I had. I felt… _sticky_. The blood was long gone from my hands and face, but it felt like it was still there. Even though I had scrubbed my skin near to the point of bleeding in the first stream we'd come across.

It turns out that you actually _can_ see the life fade from someone's eyes…

"You did," Brother said firmly, reaching over and gripping my shoulder.

"You did very well, _Rogue_. Our teachers would be proud."

He smiled at me hopefully and I gave him a half smile in return for his efforts.

"I know… Mama wouldn't be, though."

His hand slid from my shoulder as he heaved a sigh.

"There's nothing we can do about that. You know what is to become of us. What we'll have to do to survive. I know you can do it."

"Yes," I whispered, feeling little Galahad relax against me and rest his head against my spine.

He was falling asleep. It was getting late, the light dimming across the more open plains. The scattered trees casting long shadows and the sky turned a pinky-blue as the sun set behind us. The Romans had wanted to get as far away from the woods as possible, so had extended our travelling time.

"That's what scares me."

oOo

It was well and truly dark by the time we were given the order to stop and set up camp. All of the boys had ended up shared across the horses. Some were carrying as many as three as we had begun to droop and grow more and more exhausted. It got to the point where we had to share, or risk some getting left behind. The Romans didn't care enough to stop early, or even slow the pace, the sadistic bastards.

The younger ones had to be simply taken from the saddles, and carried to where the fires were to be built. We set them down on the saddle cloths and began work on fending off the chill falling upon us. Some of them hadn't even stirred.

I was almost glad when I started feeling angry at our captors. It gave me something to distract me from the doubts and fears beginning to take root in my mind.

"Rogue?"

"Mm?"

I glanced across the growing fire I was steadily stoking up to look at Gawain. The older boy was fiddling with a couple of thin little twigs, somewhat nervously.

"Uh…" he started, but stopped.

I nodded to him, understanding.

"I know."

"You do?" he asked suspiciously.

I nodded again, dropping another larger, broken off branch into the licking flames.

"You don't have to thank me for saving Galahad," I said quietly, to try and avoid being heard by anyone else.

Though I doubted there was much chance of that. Most were already asleep, and some of the others, Dag, Tristan, Erec, had gone hunting for what would be our breakfast. Gawain and I were the only conscious ones at our little spot, and the others left awake were too lost inside themselves to be worried about eavesdropping.

I knew the feeling.

"I do," Gawain insisted, tossing the twigs he'd been playing with into the flames. "I dunno what I'd have done…"

"You don't have to find out, do you?" I whispered, clapping him on the shoulder like I'd seen the other boys do in a sign of support. "You're welcome, Gawain."

He smiled half-heartedly, and then looked back to where his brother and cousin were curled up next to each other, sleeping soundly.

I left him to think about whatever it was that was eating at him, and went to where I had tied Tama on a long lead to one of the sparse trees. They weren't thick enough here to warrant an ambush, hence why the Romans had finally allowed us to stop.

My boy nickered at me in welcome, stretching his nose out to push at my hand. I smiled softly.

"Hello, beautiful."

I let him lip at my fingers, before sliding them over the velvet of his long nose and splaying them across his face.

I pressed a kiss to his muzzle and danced my fingers over his cheek and down his neck, tracing all the strong muscles under the smooth skin. I could feel his strong pulse through my finger tips, and sighed as I felt myself unwind, relax.

"Good boy," I whispered, leaning my head against his neck and reaching up as far as I could to hug him. "Good boy. Are you keeping out of trouble? Hey? That's my boy. You tired?"

"D'you always talk to your horse?"

I jumped at the voice, making Tama fling his head back as I startled him. Whirling around, I narrowed my eyes on the dark figure standing a few feet from me.

"What?"

It was one of the boys; that much I could tell, but it was too dark out here for me to make out his features.

"Do _you_, always _talk_, to your _horse_," he repeated slower.

The voice was familiar, but…

I growled, "Yes. So?"

He shrugged.

"No reason."

He kicked at something at his feet.

"Lancelot," I realised aloud.

He raised his head to look at me, "Yeah?"

"Oh… nothing. What'd you want?"

I could see it now, the wild curly hair, it was a giveaway. And how he constantly looked tense, even in the shadows.

He shrugged again, unknowingly.

"What you did today…"

I felt myself grow wary and interrupted, "_What_?"

"The way you fought… it was as good as the Romans. How'd you… How'd you know how?"

I blinked, surprised.

"Know how? My Pa and Uncle have been teachin' me and Dag since we were little. Old knights."

He nodded, but was suddenly quiet and still.

"Didn't yours teach you?" I enquired after the silence started getting to me.

It was still so strange to me. Why wouldn't their fathers have prepared them like ours had with us?

"He showed me some things. How to fashion arrows and shoot targets from my saddle, and a little with swords."

He shrugged again, like he wasn't sure why he was doing this. I didn't know, either.

"I've been learning since I was six summers," I admitted softly, smiling at Tama as he pushed at my shoulder with his big velvety nose. Always seeking to be the centre of attention. I brushed my hand up his face and he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh.

"My Pa told me that my horse has seen what we will have to face…" Lancelot began and then trailed off, stepping forward to cautiously reach out a hand to Tama, offering it to the stallion to sniff.

"He's a good looking horse, this one."

I smiled, feeling pride swell inside me, "He is Tama."

"Darkness?" Lancelot looked up from inspecting my mount, giving me an amused smile, "Is everything about you so…"

"Mysterious?" I offered, watching him carefully from behind my messy dark hair.

Surely this newcomer among us could not have guessed my secret already… _Surely_ not. _Please__ don__'__t __let__ it__ be__ so,__ please._ I pleaded silently to whatever god might have happened to be listening.

"I would've said dark, but mysterious works, too," he grinned, for perhaps the first time I'd seen him do so. "The others say you and the other silent one, the scary scout…"

"Tristan," I supplied, feeling sort of glad that I wasn't the only one who thought the boy was unnerving.

"Right, _him_. They say you're both like death; silent and deadly."

I smiled a little, knowing that I should be pleased with this but not quite being able to bring myself to be.

"I can live with that."

His eyes widened as he asked, "You do this on purpose? Why?"

I shrugged, trying to appear like it didn't matter.

"The way I see it, a bad reputation…"

"The less you will be challenged." he interrupted, finishing for me. "That… makes sense."

"Uh, thank you?"

_Stop __talking __to__ him._ The sensible part of me said. _You __are__ saying__ too__ much._

"You're not really very talkative, are you?" Lancelot continued, stroking the other side of my horse's neck, not that Tama seemed to mind in the slightest. It was starting to unnerve me how he seemed to pick up on what I was thinking, though. I pinned him with a glare, not even sure he could tell my expression given the lack of light.

"You weren't either, last I checked."

He shrugged. He did that a lot.

"I didn't know anyone. And I saw you fight today… it was… it was _good_. And you saved that little boy, the dark headed one…"

"Galahad. His name is Galahad. He's seven."

"Right, when you saved him… I've never seen… I was wondering if… you'd, uh…" He stumbled over his words, either he didn't know what to say or he didn't want to say it.

I just waited silently. Lancelot was hot-headed, despite what Dag had jokingly hoped. I knew he would bur up like an angry ox if I tried to help him. I was getting better at reading people, which was some good news at least. I didn't _just_ want to be good at killing them now.

It _was_ harder than I had thought it'd be. Papa and Uncle warned us, foretold that taking another human life would not be easy. Yet, somehow, I had never pictured it as being so very difficult.

The most frightening thing of all was that it was _easy_. Not mentally, so much, but physically. It had taken a lot of effort for _me_ to drive my sword through that man's chest, but I am much smaller than he had been. He should've been much stronger than I. Did that mean that the older I got, the easier it would be to plunge steel though skin and bone? I feared that it did.

I feared when the time comes that it takes less effort on my part to kill someone. I don't want it to be easy to stab anyone, to draw blood, to end life. Those people who I will have to kill; they are all someone's child, maybe someone's husband, brother or father. Would there be any women?

How would I feel if someone were to kill my parents, or Dag?

How would I be in a world without them?

I shivered.

This is what Papa meant when he said I could not think about the person on the end of my blade. They could not be people, other living, breathing people. Who felt and thought, just like I did.

I knew I would drive myself to insanity if I thought like this for long.

Who had I murdered? Who would be missing them now that they are gone? Who will shed tears for them?

No. It'd be impossible to last a month if I continued like this, let alone last the fifteen years. I'd probably end up falling on my own sword out of guilt.

Whoever chooses to come at me with a weapon will be deciding their own fate.

"_No man enters a battle without expecting to die. They all hope that they won't, and will do anything not to, but death is to be expected in war."_

Papa had said that to me once; it made a whole lot more sense now than it had back then.

I had to believe that my opponent was ready to die, as I myself had to be prepared to do so. Hope that we won't, but there must always be a loser. I just had to be good enough so that that loser was never me.

"Rogue?"

A hand waved in front of my face.

"Hello?"

I blinked rapidly to rouse myself from my thoughts. I stared at Lancelot, who was eyeing me warily.

"What?"

"Are you alright? You went quieter than usual and did not answer me," he said cautiously.

I shook my head, banishing all the contradicting thoughts to the depths of my mind where I could no longer hear them. "Fine. Just thinking. What'd you say?"

He dropped his eyes to his feet and scuffed them in the dirt.

"I asked if you'd teach me. How to fight like that, I mean."

I gaped at him. Was he serious? I couldn't teach him!

"Dag would be a much better choice of teacher," I heard myself say, still stunned by the request.

_Why__ in__ the __name__ of __the__ Gods__' __would__ he__ ask _me_…__?_ Lancelot's eyes rose back up to meet mine, what he could see of mine anyway.

"There was something about the way you moved though… It was different to Dagonet, smoother."

"Lancelot, I don't know how to teach _anything_, let alone something as important at this. I don't know how I did what I did back there, I just… _knew_. Dagonet knows just as much as I do," I said honestly. "I can only tell you to ask him. He'd be happy to, I know he would."

I think that's probably what we will have to do though. Those of us who do know how to fight, will have to help train those who don't. The Romans were obviously pitiful- none of us would survive if we were to depend on their way of doing things. Not that they really cared how many of us would survive, of course.

But it could not be me, _I_ couldn't… I wouldn't have the first clue on how to teach someone how to fight.

"I'll suggest it to Dag and Kay, alright?" I asked the older boy before me.

He nodded silently, returning to his brooding muteness. He was as good at this as Tristan was, though admittedly less nerve-wracking than the scout. Tristan could fight, no doubts about that, but I seemed to be only able to picture him eating his 'students' instead of instructing them.

"Okay, then," Lancelot surprised me by suddenly answering.

"Good… Well, I think I should get some sleep… goodnight." I murmured, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

He lifted his eyes but not his head, and peered at me from underneath those unruly black curls of his.

"Goodnight."

With one last stroke to Tama's neck, I started back to our fire, only to stop and turn back without warning. Lancelot was still standing next to my stallion.

"Our fire is just over there," I blurted, unexpectedly.

I coughed uncomfortably, really not understanding how Dag managed to be such a people person. It was terrible.

"If you get cold, you are welcome with us, you know."

He nodded to me, "I know. Thanks."

I nodded back and returned to the fire, hoping for, but not expecting, a good, sound sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wow, finally. This chapter was so unbelievably hard to write! My writer's block seems to have centred around my King Arthur fics *sniff*. Make it go 'way :( **

**I haven't a clue when the next chapter will be. I'm due back at work on Sunday afternoon, and I'm not entirely sure at this stage how long I will be away for. Might have weekend work yet. Dunno. **

**I'm also going to be moving again -_- Which will really throw a spanner in the works. I don't know if we'll have internet straight away or if we'll have to wait for an un-known period of time. Keep an eye on my profile though, when I know more I'll put up a note. At the moment, it's like poking around a dark room with a inch long candle. I barely know which way is up! **

**Thank you very much for reading, I hope you liked this one. Please review and let me know your thoughts :)**

**Have a lovely day, **

**Love, **

**~Meg xx**


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